


sympathy for the hurricane

by meinposhbastard



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: (I'd like to say slow burn but 27k is not that slow for me), Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Merfolk, Cultural Differences, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Mating Marks, Merfolk AU, No specific Spidey iteration, Original Character(s), Possessive Behavior, Siren!Peter, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, merman!Wade, one OC pronouns: he/they, plot-wise this would be an M: one gory bit towards end, protective!wade, the rating is for sex/no sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29237925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard/pseuds/meinposhbastard
Summary: Peter has never been more scared in his entire life. He’s on the run, and the last place he should take refuge in is the Trenches, the deepest and most dangerous place of the Atlantic Ocean. But he’s desperate. If they catch him, it will be the end of him.The Monster of the Trenches is a creature that has been in numerous wars and has lived for a thousand years (or so the folk tales say). Peter has grown up with them, among others; this monster is that old. So Peter expects something big and formless and dark and maybe hungry for siren flesh.What Peter finds is a merman full of scars, a tragic past befitting them, and kindness.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 26
Kudos: 200
Collections: Spideypool Big Bang - The 2020 Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the purpose of this fic, I envisioned the Trenches similar to the Mariana Trench, but the one in my fic is situated in the Atlantic Ocean rather than Pacific Ocean. Hope that doesn’t confuse people.
> 
> I had the luck to collaborate with **thatbanananana** , such a sweet and wonderful person, whose gorgeous art makes this fic 100x better! Please go and shower her in love! [Art Masterpost](https://thatbanananana.tumblr.com/post/642195522944417792/banner-and-art-piece-for-spideypool-bigbang-2020/)
> 
> Now for the awesome people who lent their time to read this fic and make it better:  
> My alphas *DP giggles* : bisexualbarry (AO3) and ohstars (tumblr)  
> My beta *DP winks* : fallinglikeafoolforyou (tumblr)
> 
> A special thank you to the amazing BB mod team for putting this together and being always there to answer questions and clear misunderstandings!

* * *

If Peter had ever amounted to anything, it would be this: speed. He was the fastest siren he knew. He could outrun everyone in any tribe or colony he’d been in, even the most skilled warriors, though they had nothing on the mermen down by the Reef.

So Peter ran now more than ever. Well, if ran meant that his long, scaly tail swished up and down so fast one would think that a quarter of it was gone, then yes, Peter was _running._

He was so desperate, that at first he didn’t feel it. It was such a small detail and he was more preoccupied to look behind him at his pursuers— who weren’t there.

His body registered the change in temperature a second later and when he looked around, jagged rock walls were rising all around him, dark and foreboding, while in the distance the pointy turrets of a castle he only heard in folk tales and painted by his aunt when he asked to see it stood strong and menacing. A faint orange-red illuminated them above the rocky plateau.

Oh, no.

He was not supposed to be there. Not without a solid plan to back him up. He was supposed— but that couldn’t— oh, he took that turn by the caves, down behind the volcano vents. Oh, _shit._ This was his last option, his very last. The kind of option that he’d go along with maybe on pain of death, possibly after his heart would slow down enough to make him dizzy.

But he was here.

The Trenches.

He turned around on his tail, suspicious and afraid, but nothing was jumping at him from the shadows. The marine creatures didn’t even notice his presence because he was not receiving spikes of echolocation from anyone. He tempered down on this, fighting with his instincts against broadcasting his fear and thus his location. That would only attract trouble and would bring trouble after him.

So he ventured further into the Trenches, but not far enough because he felt the waves of echolocation of two very much _not_ marine creatures — not in the way whales and sharks and banks of fish were — heading his way. One was broadcasting it aggressively, while the other felt like— like skittering legs on his skin, raising goose bumps. He didn’t understand what that meant, what kind of mer-species could pull such a feeling from him, but he did the first thing his instincts screamed at him: hide.

Fortunately, those jagged, threatening rock faces had caves, deep enough to hide him, but they were ultimately death traps because they didn’t go further inside the plateau. He hid behind the algae and other marine plants that covered almost the entire mouth of the cave.

He tempered his heart, the first thing that would betray his location. He needed to blend in with the marine creatures, make it so he appeared as just another heartbeat in the ocean. He slowed it down — just like his aunt taught him to — until it almost made him dizzy. That was dangerous, too, because it meant that his reflexes were twice as slow as usual.

“—a Macian, of course. Of course, you’d go there. Next time you invite me to sit in on those long, boring diplomatic talks with the Macian Prince, tell me in advance that you’ll be thinking with your dick and not— ugh, why did I say that, now I can’t unsee—”

“Eri, the cherry on top of my cream, the apex to my predator, focus.”

“You really need to get laid. If I have to hear one more of those horrible, honeyed terms, I’m gonna throw up in my mouth. And I’ll pack my stuff and leave. There are other tribes around that require my services.”

“Aw, you’re worried I’m not getting enough vitamin D, that is so sweet of you. My oldest and most precious friend, always looking out for my best interests.”

“Please don’t mention it. I mean it. Don’t. Now, the intrusion came from around here.”

Peter saw two mermen. One looked skinny (skinnier than Peter, which was a feat) and was half the size of the other one. His tail was dark purple with red reflections every time it swished, a gossamer fabric covering the upper half of it, eyeliner making the purple in his eyes stand out. He had a vest that looked like it was carved right into his skin, deep red with black inlays. But what made his heart skip a beat and fear spike at once, loud and sharp, was the necklace. There were bracelets on both wrists and scintillating chains around his middle, but that necklace, yes, that one _was_ carved into his skin, around the collar of his neck with a medallion, a tarantula medallion, blood-red bulbous body and black legs fixed into the middle of his chest. 

_Sea witch._

Peter was petrified.

He didn’t know that the Trenches had a sea witch.

This— was not supposed to happen.

He needed to get out of there. He needed to _leave_ right now! 

“Hello, little creature.”

Peter did the only thing he could think of the moment the merman’s huge body covered almost the entirety of the cave mouth. He pushed forth, the pins on the outside of his forearms cutting into his chest which pulled a surprised grunt from the merman, and Peter knew that second of surprise was the only thing that allowed him to push the mountain back.

“Whoa!” was the only thing the merman said, features slack in shock, even as Peter felt the surge of magic from the other one.

It was like everything stopped, but it didn’t, it just— the ocean looked like it was crawling forward.

It took but a nano-second for Peter to fix his gaze on the sea witch, his arms raising, palms glowing a poisonous violet. He was going to attack Peter, but Peter was faster. So much faster than any mer-species he had met.

And now that he was in the open, he didn’t care anymore. If this was where he was going to die, then he was going to put up a hellish fight. He was so tired of living in fear, of looking over his shoulder.

So he shot like a bullet towards the sea witch. Fear suffused the sea witch’s eyes, now electric purple with the surge of magic at the ready, the moment he realized his powers would not save him from Peter.

He had time to squeak before Peter’s hand was on his throat, the speed pushing him back, back, back, until his back hit the rock face. He tried to cough, but Peter’s slender, long fingers were pressing hard enough to make it a choked cough.

“Wa-ade— he— kill—nng— me!”

Peter was so focused on doing just that, blood rushing to his ears, bringing back sounds he thought he’d never hear again except in his dreams, that he didn’t realize that his back was completely open.

A large, strong hand caught Peter by his throat and tore him away from the sea witch with such a force that he tumbled backward a few times.

The merman’s shoulders were squared and _oh_ there was so much fury on his face.

“We can do this the hard way,” the merman growled, blue eyes flashing in the semi-darkness of the valley, “or you can spill what the fuck you think you’re doing.”

“Sea witch,” Peter growled back, glancing at the witch in question, who was still recovering from having his trachea squeezed.

“Stating the obvious isn’t winning you any mackerel points,” the angry merman drawled.

Peter glanced between them, the merman’s fists at his side, the breadth of his shoulders seeming to grow with each inhalation, and the sea witch was completely dwarfed by him. He could only make out the slow undulation of the tail.

“They’re dangerous.”

The merman nodded slowly. “The brainwashed, yes. But Eri is not one of them. He’s a trusted member of m— the court.”

Peter glanced between the stony mask of the merman and the space above his shoulder. They were at an impasse. The merman didn’t seem to be inclined to give more information than that and Peter was stubborn enough to do the same. But something had to give. They couldn’t be locked in that staredown forever.

So Peter gave a bit.

“I wish to speak with the Master of the Trenches.”

“You’re—” the sea witch started, but the merman’s hand stopped him.

“Why?” he asked.

Peter narrowed his eyes. It sounded like a tricky question. And he knew that depending on the answer, he would be allowed to meet with the monster from most of the stories he grew up with or he’d meet his demise. He could lie, but the merman was looking too intently at him and Peter didn’t think he could lie convincingly.

“That’s something I will tell your king.”

“You trust this faceless king more than you do us who you’ve interacted with?” the merman asked.

“He has decisional power. It’s pointless to tell you two my reasons. Especially your sea witch.” He glared at the witch in question who glared back just as venomously.

The merman grinned. “Even so, we’re the ones standing between you and the king.”

Peter pursed his lips. If he said it, if he let those words go, then everything would feel so much more real than Peter could handle. So he didn’t.

“I wish to speak to him.”

“Why should we grant your wish?” the witch said, disdain in his voice. “For all we know you could be a spy or an assassin sent to kill the king.”

Peter looked down his bare torso, his blue tail and white-ish, almost transparent fan-like tip of his tail and fins, mark of a malnourished, unhappy siren, and then back to the two Trenchers.

“You might be right,” Peter said, realizing that he could see what the suspicious witch was talking about.

“You do realize,” the witch intoned, “that you just put yourself in a bad spot with us, don’t you?”

Peter glared at him. “I only wish to speak to your king. Whatever he decides, I will honor it. It might not be much, but you have my word. Is he that weak that a scrawny siren is considered a threat to him? Then I’m clearly in the wrong place.”

The witch snorted. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

The merman weighed his words, and he did it for such a long time that Peter’s anger and adrenaline deserted him and he was left with the pieces of himself he tried hard to shore up and keep together. His insecurities, his fears, his sorrow, the betrayal that still tasted like a rotten carcass in the back of his throat.

He couldn’t even enjoy the moment of respite, his chasers nowhere in sight. If that last witch hadn’t… But it was a moot point now. No time to cry over spilt milk.

“Fine,” the merman finally spoke. “You’ll have an audience with the Monster of the Trenches.” His smile was razor-sharp and dangerous.

“What?” the sea witch squeaked at his side, a protest rising in his voice.

“Not another word,” he warned the witch. 

And Peter was struck thinking back on their conversation and wondering if he actually had a slip of tongue and called their king a monster. After all, master and monster were so close...

“Are you out of your mind?” The witch protested anyway, forgetting about Peter as he swam in front of the merman. “He could injure someone. He just admitted that he might be a spy or an assassin. He could be a million nasty things, and you’re just— what? Inviting him in through the front door?”

The merman hadn’t taken his eyes off Peter during the whole protest. He was keeping an eye on him in case he decided to attack the witch again, of course. Peter would have done the same, if witches meant anything to him other than fuel for hatred and fear.

“Any spy or assassin worth their salt would’ve done better than that,” he said, pointing rudely at Peter. A ‘hey’ was ready to get out of his mouth, but the merman said, “he’s scared,” and Peter’s heart plummeted into his stomach. 

He wasn’t used to being read so well and so fast, especially by a stranger in a dangerous part of the ocean. But he also couldn’t mask himself as well as he would have been able to under different circumstances. He was tired and hungry, and he was sure that if he went through another spike of adrenaline, he would pass out from exhaustion. So he needed to keep his wits about him and tread carefully.

He hadn’t wanted the Trenches to become his last and only option, but he knew of no other place that would keep him safe, even temporarily. King Savis was dangerous in the way someone who’s able to manipulate his way into any court or stronghold could be. He only hoped that the Trenches would really be the one kingdom in the Atlantic Ocean that was off-limits to him.

“Scared? _Scared?_ He almost killed me! Did you see that? Or did your dick-brain think ‘hey, we might have discovered a new kink. What’s that? Oh, right, the one where Erinel gets suffocated by a crazy maniac of a skinny merman’.”

“Hey!” Peter interjected. “Not crazy or maniac.”

“No, you might actually be an idiot,” the witch spit out, not even looking back at him.

Peter’s glare zeroed in on his nape. If he lunged now, he’d be able to— the merman’s steady gaze arrested that thought, and he sighed heavily, averting his eyes.

“Eri, you’re overreacting.”

“I’m overreacting? Of course I’m overreacting! I was almost—”

“You were, but you’re not now.” And that was when he looked down at the witch. “I told you I’d protect you. I swore to you on my life. Nothing happened to you.”

“Nothing except the bruises in the shape of fingers on my throat.”

“You’ll heal.”

The witch threw up his hands. “Fine, be that way. But he’s not leaving this place until I make sure he’s not a threat to anyone.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. The witch seemed to square his shoulders as he turned around and looked at him.

“If you want to _talk_ to the di— Protector of this place, you’ll have to consent to have my magic on you.”

Peter recoiled. 

“Eri.”

The witch sighed. “Not like that. Nothing invasive. It’ll feel like a layer on your skin. And only on your arms. It’ll be there to alert me of any spikes in emotion that might lead to rash decisions. I need to make sure I know when you’re about to attack someone before that happens. It’s nothing overly restrictive.”

For some reason, Peter felt the need to look back up at the merman to— search for approval? Reassurance? See if the witch was lying?

He received a nod for his effort and he was really torn because everything in him wanted to run away. This was not a safe place. Peter didn’t even know what awaited him once they brought him to the Master of the Trenches. Who could reassure him that he wouldn’t be shredded to pieces for trespassing? No one could enter the Trenches without being invited first. It was an unspoken law that even dignitaries from far seas and oceans knew about. And he almost killed the witch who — by the way — seemed to have enough power to condemn him to a painful death. He hadn’t survived this long just to be murdered in the last place in the ocean he ever wanted to be.

But even though he had done something punishable by death, the merman didn’t seem worried or angry. He looked like he was trying to peel off Peter’s layers one by one, and that made Peter uncomfortable because he was _seen._ He didn’t want to be _seen._ Seen meant that he was close to being captured. Seen meant that everyone who had ever showed him kindness would pay the price.

What if he had made a grave mistake coming there? What if the Monster of the Trenches would do what all the others had never managed? And Peter was delivering himself right into his hands.

“Only if it’s temporary,” he heard himself say. “I want it gone by the time my audience is finished no matter what comes from it. I’m not a spy or a threat to you or this kingdom. All I ask is for safe passage out of it, if the audience doesn’t have a positive outcome. Do I have your word?”

The witch looked up at the merman by his side, who had his arms crossed over his ridged skin. Peter wasn’t close enough to see all the details on his nude torso, but he’d seen the marks earlier, like spots covering the whole expanse of his skin. The only thing that was smooth and unblemished was the tail. A deep, deep red, small fins on the side, near the tip. All the fins Peter could see along with the tip of the tail were almost entirely black. There was a simple golden belt where the skin met the tail with a black tarantula in the middle like a clasp keeping the belt on. 

So this merman belonged to the witch.

There were many cultural differences between each tribe of mer-species, even within one. Some connected with their supposed other half harder than others. Some didn’t even feel anything for any one special mer-person, but instead chose to surround themselves with many, not always in a sexual way. Others grew old and died waiting for the one to fill the void in their chest.

Peter had only general knowledge of that. His uncle had made sure he knew enough to distinguish between the tribes living in this part of the ocean and know about the differences so as to not trip over tails and accidentally draw unnecessary wrath upon his head.

The merman nodded.

“You have my word,” the witch said, “that no harm will come to you while here unless it is provoked.”

Peter glanced between them a few times, sharp teeth grinding against each other. His instincts still screamed at him to get the hell out of that place and forget he ever dared come there. But the witch was floating slowly towards him, wary and prepared to act if Peter lashed out. The merman didn’t move from where he was, strong tail undulating lazily, keeping him afloat.

The witch stopped an arm’s length in front of Peter, waiting. With a sigh, he placed his arms between them. He hesitated, but then put his hands above Peter’s and closed his eyes, murmuring something that vibrated in the space between them. His eyelids trembled and Peter saw a flash of violet before he felt his arms slowly warm up from the tip of his fingers all the way to his shoulders. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it still made his stomach roil at the feel of magic on his skin.

As soon as the witch opened his eyes and retreated, a calculating look on his face, Peter pulled back, away from him, stroking his forearms and feeling how the magic was settling in his skin. Like a fabric that stuck to it and wouldn’t let go even if he scratched.

“I feel residuals of magic in you,” the witch said slowly as if he himself wasn’t sure of his own words.

Peter pursed his lips. “I had a recent run in with a witch.” 

He didn’t like the way the witch’s eyebrow seemed to mock his survival of that encounter. “And you got out in one piece? Must’ve been a novice.”

“No, she was very much a veteran. But brainwashed. And too far from her master to do more than stun me before she fled.”

Peter watched as his face passed through a few expressions in rapid succession from surprise, to anger, to nausea, and back to surprise.

“Why did she attack you, specifically? And without the one holding her captive to tell her what to do.”

He didn’t answer as he saw the merman swimming closer and placing a hand on the witch’s shoulder.

“The rest of that can wait until we get back,” he told the witch, then turned a smile towards Peter. “Welcome to the Kingdom of the Trenches. I’m Wade and this here is my witch, Eri.”

“It’s Erinel for you,” he told Peter, a warning in his voice. Then he glared at Wade and slapped his proprietary hand away, pushing himself away from him. “I’ll singe your tail, if you pull that bullshit again.”

Wade didn’t seem hurt by the antagonistic behaviour of his mate. Maybe that was how their relationship functioned. He’d seen that in other tribes when he’d been moving from place to place. Nataniel and Thyrra, Frej and Arre. Even if he couldn’t hear their hearts in sync, or their inner echolocation harmonizing with each other (although this mostly happened between sirens) it didn’t mean that they weren’t mated.

Though with that many razor-sharp and pointy teeth in Wade’s mouth, Peter involuntarily searched the witch’s throat for any sign of a mating mark. Although a mating mark wasn’t required in any merfolk tribe to seal a deal, some pairs felt a stronger urge to do that than others. And it wasn’t necessarily something that needed to be put on the throat. He’d seen mating marks on top of the shoulder, like punctured tattoos, or on the chest, above the heart.

Wade’s grin sharpened, amused by his witch’s response.

“I’m Peter,” he said at last, feeling that he should give back the same courtesy they showed him.

“Peter. Petey. Pete-babe. It suits you.”

“Just Peter,” Peter said, a warning in his voice. 

“Let’s go,” the witch called out, “we have a long way back.”

Erinel was leading while Wade chose to swim by Peter’s side. He told himself that it was only so that he could keep a close eye on Peter in case he got ideas. But he was way too friendly for that— unless that was a way to make him lower his guard. Who knew what dangers the Trenches held for him. He could only rely on the stories he grew up with. The ones where monsters were real and lived for thousands of years, enough time to develop an appetite for merfolk flesh.

Wade kept chatting about anything and everything like an overexcited kid who just found someone who would listen to him. But among the torrent of words, Peter realized that he wasn’t actually saying anything Peter didn’t already know. Useless information about the creatures they passed by, the rock formations, some battles he’d been in. Nothing that Peter found any value in.

“What about you?” Wade asked after a short lull in the one-sided conversation.

The witch was a few tails in front of them, hands lifting at his sides, palms glowing violet as if he was checking the ocean around him.

“What about me?” Peter returned the question, glancing up at the merman.

He was a full two heads taller and twice as broad as Peter. Now that they were so close, Peter wondered in what reality he could have taken Wade. Maybe if he kept surprising the big guy, he would have. Eventually.

Yeah, _weirdly_ enough Peter didn’t believe that.

“You. Here. Where did you come from and why here of all places?” There was something in his voice as he said that last part, as if he already knew.

“Why would anyone want to come here,” Peter muttered, then louder, he said, “I’ve been travelling from place to place. And I’ll tell the king the reason why. No offence.”

Wade looked amused. He didn’t smile, not really. But his eyes crinkled and the blue seemed to have an inner light that Peter kept finding weird. Possibly the witch’s influence. It wasn’t unheard of for pairs that had certain powers to bleed into their mated half. The effects of that were so diverse that no pair manifested that leakage the same way.

The fact that Wade seemed to have a certain power of conviction over his witch, assuaged some of Peter’s fears, enough to not be constantly with his eyes on him. It was a good idea to make himself appear as harmless and innocent as possible to this huge merman in case of anything.

“None taken,” Wade said. “Where do you come from?”

“I don’t have a home.”

That got an arched— well, it would have been an eyebrow. Nevertheless, the ridge shifted, the muscle pulling up. “Everyone has a home, even if that’s just the place they were born in.”

Peter weighed how much he should tell him. Too much information, and it would attract unwanted attention. Too little information, and more questions would follow along with suspicion. And right now, Peter needed some allies, at the very least some people who would believe him enough to help him escape when it came to that.

Wade looked like a merman who wouldn’t die easily in a fight, even one against brainwashed witches, so Peter felt marginally less guilty about thinking of him like that.

Being on the run for as long as Peter had, he learned that friends were a liability, and that he should weigh each interaction and make appropriate escape plans, taking into consideration each merfolk he came into contact with.

“I was born in one of the colonies near the vents, east of the Gulf Stream current.”

There were five colonies living near those volcanic vents, four full days and five nights traveling from the Trenches. He was aware that he was putting them in danger by tying himself to their location, but Peter still hoped that by being vague about which one, they wouldn’t be targeted. The colonies were big enough and diverse enough that it would take a while to find any kind of reliable information about Peter and his circumstances.

Wade hummed.

He looked like he was pondering something when Peter’s attention was drawn to what lay in front of them.

Molded into the rock face was an imposing castle, lit up from the inside in blue, green, and a faded red. There were numerous entrances, all of them guarded by various species of mermen and octopi and even sharks. A whale groaned above them, sending a low frequency echolocation that resonated deep within Peter’s bones as it traversed the length of the castle.

The castle rose high and pointy, made entirely of what looked like lava stones. In fact, a large depression from which warm light spilled up separated the castle from the rest of the plateau, while the two lava falls flanking it gave the castle depth and made it look even more imposing. There were five turrets, two on each side and one in the middle, towards the front of the huge castle.

Marine creatures swam freely around and through the castle, but on the ground, Peter took in settlements both around the castle, but also on the other side of the depression, fanning out in-between wild marine vegetation and rock formations. A lot of merpeople milled around, some were training or brawling, others played rock games with a variety of species, from jellyfish to stingrays to sharks. There was an unusual harmony among them that Peter had not expected.

The witch was greeted by everyone as they passed, along with Wade. Some even bowed, but not to Eri, which Peter found incredibly weird. Maybe Wade had a high enough position within the king’s council to warrant such respect? He looked like he could be a War Advisor and an army general.

He put it out of his mind as they passed the canyon because a vent spewing hot air almost boiled Peter’s skin, if it weren’t for Wade’s fast reflexes. He was pulled into his side, Peter drawing his arms to his own chest as they passed by it.

“Careful, baby boy.” Wade grinned closed-mouthed at him.

“Don’t call me that.” Peter pushed away from the surprising heat that the merman’s body was emanating.

Most mermen species had cold skin because not all of them preferred to live near volcanic vents where the water temperature was warm. But Peter remembered their first encounter, and even then, even on the outskirts of the Trenches where the water currents were the coldest, he felt how hot Wade’s body ran. He looked up at the merman’s chest and realized, a bit too late, that the wounds Peter inflicted had healed completely.

That was something unusual. Yes, if Peter was to compare mer-species to humans, they healed faster, but not as fast as Wade. It should have taken him at least a full day and night to heal.

They entered the castle without anyone asking them about their business. The witch did nod at the guards by the central entrance — the biggest one — and the guards nodded back. They were bulky, huge arms bulging, crossed as they were over their chests. He didn’t see spears anywhere, but he noticed that the belts around their middle held various weapons, from brass-knuckles to knives and even a whip with a metal point.

Peter followed the witch around winding corridors, guards and other mer-people swam back and forth, all bowing their head to the witch as they passed.

Huh. So there was a difference between how the witch was treated outside versus the way he was perceived inside the castle. Maybe the rest of the population didn’t take kindly to his presence and only by decree of the king were they courteous to him.

Before the War, they were feared and respected. After, they were shunned and killed on sight. Wade’s promise to protect his witch made sense. It was possible that he had come and asked sanctuary just like Peter was about to do.

He was shown into a long hall, heavily decorated pillars creating a straight path to the throne, an imposing thing completely carved out of a turquoise stone that seemed to emanate a faint glow.

“Here we are,” the witch said, sounding like he really didn’t want to do— whatever he was doing. “Please wait here for the _king_ to get his ass on the throne.”

That made Peter look at the witch. What kingdom allowed their subjects to talk like that about their king? But the witch was glaring at someone behind Peter. When he turned, there was only Wade, grinning back at the witch shamelessly. Then he met Peter’s gaze.

“Yep. Don’t worry. The king will be with you in a bit.”

Peter didn’t question why Wade hadn’t swam into the throne room because the witch sighed and went out, the doors pulled closed by the guards. The way Wade’s witch looked at him, Peter was sure they were going to argue for a long time. Maybe Wade had been too friendly with Peter and the witch was jealous. Maybe Peter shouldn’t have let Wade pull him close when the vent almost singed him. But he couldn’t have predicted that. 

He shook his head and looked back into the room, choosing to not think about those two. He needed to psych himself up for a meeting with a king that was feared and respected in equal measure across the entire Atlantic Ocean. And a few others.

There were four windows mirroring each other between the doors and the throne, each one guarded by two merfolk, a trident in one hand. Peter made his way to the throne, feeling the guards’ gaze on him. Probably they thought that he was going to steal something, but there was nothing in the room that Peter could— apart from the guards. He didn’t think any would take kindly to Peter stealing him or her or them. 

Not that he would. He wouldn’t, of course. He’d never stolen a person. And the word he was looking for was ‘kidnap’ and not steal.

The throne had intricate patterns on the edge, like algae twisting around each other to form the frame of it. As his eyes trailed over the design, battle scenes spilled into each other, both marine creatures and mer-species were depicted, although not all the species. What separated the two sides of the fan-shaped throne was the trident. He couldn’t figure out how they made it look like it was made of gold, but Peter was sure there was a carving technique that he didn’t know about.

One of the two doors behind the throne, the left one, opened and the witch came in, an exasperated look on his face. He glanced at Peter and rolled his eyes, then swam to the left side of the throne.

Peter’s breath stopped as he stared at Wade in full regalia, topped with a cape that fanned around his head like the fins of a blow-fish, the colour of an ill-green. Two more golden chains adorned his middle, and silver bands covered half of his forearms, pouring into four lines that covered the back of his hand and his knuckles.

Wade _lied_ to Peter.

But the first thing that Peter blurted out was, “Where’s the crown?”

And Wade scoffed, lips pressed tightly, as he swam and sat down on _his_ throne. Peter caught the witch rolling his eyes again.

“Lost it in a betting pool,” Wade said as if it pained him to.

Peter heard huffs behind him, and he was sure that those came from the guards. They sounded like this wasn’t anything new.

And then Peter remembered. The anger felt like that vent that tried to melt his skin, fast and unpredictable.

“You _lied to me!”_ he accused, the anger pushing him closer to the throne. But his arms locked in place and the witch’s eyes narrowed in warning.

He glared at him, but he didn’t have time for that because he had _bigger fish_ to fry.

Some of Wade’s good humour returned. “I didn’t. You never asked.”

“You presented yourselves!”

“We did.”

“And you didn’t think that I should know if I’m in the presence of the King of the Trenches?”

Wade fluttered a hand. “Didn’t seem like an important detail at the time.”

The witch rolled his eyes again and Peter realized that he must have done that a million times before because this kind of behaviour coming from their king didn’t look like it was something recent.

Peter spluttered, unable to decide what to say to that. He was also fighting against the magic crawling all over his arms, pushing against it as if his own body was trying to repel something nasty from the inside. Besides, he was on thin ground. This was the king. He had the power to do with Peter whatever he wished because it was Peter who had trespassed into his territory. 

He could imprison Peter. Kill him. Ransom him to King Savis in exchange for a peace treaty or something once Wade found out about the headhunt. Anything. And it was only that thought that stayed Peter’s tongue and brought a wave of forced calm over his senses.

He needed to think logically about this. The magic warming his arms slowly dissipated and he could move them again. He brought them up to stroke his palms over his skin to get off the itchy feeling.

“Okay. Cool. So you’re the king.”

Wade grinned toothily and bowed mockingly. “At your service.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. This was not what he expected of the king. Big and formless were two words that kept circling each other in his head and he had to concentrate hard on ignoring them. There might be something big about Wade, strong, muscular body and tail fully on display, but there was certainly nothing formless about him. 

Sure, he thought he would have to bargain with a lifetime of servitude to him for his protection, but the trip back to the castle showed a totally different side of Wade. Doubts rose. 

Was he really the bloodthirsty monster who almost wiped out the first colony near Alaska all those centuries ago? Peter found that hard to believe. Not to mention that no merman lived past 300 years. The ocean currents and pressure were simply too much for an old body to sustain. If, that was, they weren’t killed in battles. But they were living in a time of relative peace. Sure, there were skirmishes and warring mer-species in the Indian and Pacific Ocean, but that didn’t concern them.

And Peter knew that the only reason the Atlantic Ocean wasn’t at war, too, was because they feared what the King of the Trenches might do. He also knew that there were many colonies, big and prospering, that were coveting Wade’s power.

And maybe Wade was a descendant of the bloodthirsty monster from Peter’s childhood stories. That was the only explanation Peter could find. It would make sense for the fairytale monster to be his great great grandpa or uncle. But even so, Peter couldn’t be sure. Not much was known about the Trenches except the healthy dose of wariness and fear-respect everyone treated it with. Colonies periodically send their most vile criminals to it because long ago, maybe more than a thousand years ago, the Trenches were populated by a savage and mernivorous species that would tear and rend into any mer-species.

Nobody knew when or if they went extinct, just as nobody knew when the Trenches became such a powerful kingdom.

But Peter wasn’t interested in its history or political intricacies. He only wanted to survive until he was ready to brave the surface again. Since he didn’t have ties to any mer-species, he was starting to warm up to the idea of returning to the surface and creating a life for himself there.

“Great King—” Peter began, but was interrupted by Wade’s snigger.

“Sorry. Continue.”

Peter waited a bit, catching probably the fifth eye roll from the witch. “Great King of the Trenches, I come in peace. I have travelled many miles, seen a lot, and I come before you asking for sanctuary.”

“Sure.”

Peter blinked, mouth open. He was gearing up to tell some truths while also hiding other truths, navigating that landmine of lies and truths until the king was satisfied. But this— 

“What the hell, Wade!” The witch whirled around, bubbles raising from his gills, fists balled.

“What?”

“You can’t just invite a stranger into your kingdom without asking some pressing questions!”

Wade glanced at Peter. “But he wants sanctuary.”

“Yes, _why?_ That’s the pressing question here.”

“Because he’s obviously running from something or someone. Maybe even that witch he had a run in with.”

Not quite. He opens his mouth to say as much, but he doesn’t get a chance.

“And that doesn’t raise any alarm bells to you?”

Wade shrugged. “He’s scared and lonely.” Then he threw a glance at Peter, eyes calculating. “Malnourished, tired, on the brink of collapse. He wouldn’t have come here, if he had any other option.” Peter felt too seen in that moment. Then he stood up from the throne and waded slowly towards Peter. “Desperation brought him here.” He was circling Peter, putting Peter’s every instinct on high alert. There was something wildly different in the king now. Like— like he was a predator, weighing the prey’s worth. “No one comes here unless they’re invited or they have no other option and nothing else to lose but their life. He’s not a threat.”

“Uh, yeah he is. He almost killed me!”

“We’ve been over that, Eri. He was scared. And you’re a witch. Remember that outside this kingdom, witches are still hated and feared? It was a normal response. Give him time to know you. He’ll come around. Would be such a cosmic joke if you two end up becoming BFFs.”

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.

The witch opened his mouth a couple of times, arguments rising in his eyes, but dying a swift death just as fast. In the end, he sighed.

Wade came around in front of Peter. There was no smile, no frown, nothing but an intense gaze that felt as if it was peeling every protective layer off Peter to get to his most vulnerable and soft self.

“So, Petey-pie, be advised.” Oh, there was the threat Peter was waiting for. “Every child, mermaid, and merman in this kingdom can kill you in under five moves. I suggest you don’t try to harm or threaten anyone while you’re here.”

Peter blinked, reeling from that. He didn’t know what to say.

“Now, can I take off this stupid cape?” Wade asked in a long-suffering voice, and the witch shook his head and muttered, ‘do whatever you want.’

After that, Peter wondered why the kingdom wasn’t more chaotic than what he saw outside. Wade didn’t seem to care one way or another about his status as a king. What kind of place did Peter end up in? Maybe these weren’t the Trenches and it was just a neighbouring kingdom.

He was shown to a room in the East wing of the castle. The room was oval and he had a panoramic view of the right lava fall, the gentle warm currents settling something inside Peter, and the settlements sprawled in front of the castle.

Peter was so beat that as soon as he floated down on the bed, he was out like a jellyfish.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

“I don’t have time for this,” was the first thing that the witch told Peter when he opened the door the next day, “but His Obnoxiousness insisted that I give you a tour of the castle, and the outside, if you want.”

Peter was barely awake and he needed coffee like he needed the oxygen in the water, but mer-people didn’t drink that and it would reveal too much about who Peter was if he asked for it. So he resigned himself to being sluggish and not much of a conversation partner until his system fully got on with the programme.

It turned out that he didn’t need to give more than grunts or monosyllabic answers because the witch sounded like he wouldn’t have appreciated enthusiasm that early in the morning either. They were wading down a long hallway, Eri in front of him, explaining that the wing they were in was reserved for guests and dignitaries (not much of either those days) and that it was the only one with a scenic view.

“Hey,” Peter found his voice, slowly crawling his way out of lethargy. The witch stopped and threw him an impatient look. “What are your pronouns?”

“Why do you ask?”

Peter shrugged, like the siren he was. “I’ll be here for a while and I wouldn’t want to mispronoun you. If you have preferences.”

The witch narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think that?”

He shrugged again, looking out of the window and wondering if he was making the right decision. It looked too much like Peter was offering an olive branch when he was still wary of the witch. 

_ Listen to what’s inside your heart, Peter, and you’ll be able to see behind any mask,  _ Uncle Ben’s voice trickled through. Peter’s chest constricted painfully, but he trudged forward. This was the first sea witch he encountered that didn’t want to kill him on sight— yet.

“I’ve encountered merfolk who were very attached to their pronouns whenever they felt like a different gender or no gender at all. They usually broadcasted that through how they presented themselves. And yesterday you looked like you wouldn’t prefer ‘he’, though I labelled you as such.” He shrugged again, glancing at the witch. “Something about the way you moved and talked and… just the ai— uh, water around you.”

The witch studied Peter for a while, making him feel uncomfortable on purpose.

“I prefer they/them, on occasion he/him. Today is that occasion. You’ll know when the change happens.” Short and succinct, but there was an appreciative look in his eyes, almost as if he hadn’t expected Peter to be mindful, let alone for such a small detail.

Whereas Peter thought it common courtesy, especially since he really couldn’t afford to lose this sanctuary. But now that he was more awake and latching onto the details his survivalist brain gathered, he noticed that there was no gossamer fabric covering the upper half of his tail, no eyeliner, no jewelry or lazy undulation of his tail. He had all the air of someone who felt more male than other. The stride — if it could be called that — the clipped, to the point words, the suspicion in his eyes. There was every chance that Eri used this gender as protection.

Not that Peter needed to be intimidated. He was plenty intimidated by the knowledge that he was in the presence of a witch. The anger he had felt the previous day had been fueled by desperation. Past encounters with brainwashed witches taught him to fear and fight them before they got a chance to use their magic against him. He had never encountered a sea witch that was not at someone’s beck and call.

This one didn’t seem to respond to Wade in the way Peter had seen the others do to their masters. He fought back against Wade’s decisions, challenged him and even insulted him more often than not, so he was still his own person, capable of making his own mind. Which meant that he could be reasoned with.

That knowledge appeased part of Peter’s worries. It didn’t mean that Eri couldn’t turn around all of a sudden and kill Peter where he was. But maybe he could trust the king’s words, that he would be safe there as long as he didn’t step on any tail. He would need to be careful not to make any deep connections with anyone.

“Kitchen is on the ground floor, the mess hall is just through here, connected to it.” Eri showed him in through an opening in the carved wall. “Most of the castle, including the king, eat here, unless they have arrangements with their own families.”

There were other rooms on the ground floor. Too many to remember what each one was used for, except the armory and the training room. First floor held the throne room, the second floor was the king’s quarters, so Eri only stood in front of the guarded open doorway to explain before they moved up. The rest of the floors held an assortment of empty or storage rooms, many of which were occupied by the people working in the castle.

What Peter concluded, later in the morning, was that there were so many opportunities to kill the king, it wasn’t even funny. Well, maybe a little bit. But Peter was going to keep his opinions to himself and try to act like he was part of the wall decorations. That way, he hoped he would have a quiet and uneventful stay until he inevitably had to leave.

Eri brought them back to the mess hall that was beginning to be populated by both merfolk and sea creatures.

And back there, among the milling creatures, was the king carrying a huge platter topped with some sort of meat and an assortment of sea fruits, held together by some marine creature’s ribcage.

“More than a thousand years of being a king and he still refuses to sit on his damn tail and let the others do their job,” he heard Eri mutter at his side.

Peter frowned at him. “Sorry, did you just say a thousand years? Him?”

“Honeybeans!” Wade called out to the witch as he placed the platter on the closest table, garnering cheers and applause from the ones floating around it, “How goes the tour?” He made his way towards them.

Eri made a face. “We finished the castle. If he wants to, I’ll take him outside after lunch.”

Peter slowly edged away from the two on instinct, feeling as if he was intruding. But Wade’s gaze fastened on him and he stilled _.  _

Wade grinned. “You have to try Mei’s tuna and shrimp dish with fresh dulse and spirulina.”

Peter’s blood grew cold, heartbeat stuttering and panic rising. Eri and Wade both frowned at him, wading closer. They felt the spike, as did the rest of the mess hall if the blip of silence in the chatter was any indication.

“What did you say?” he asked faintly.

“Tuna and shrimp?” Wade said, confused.

“Her name…”

_ Peter, dear, you don’t need to worry. We’ll pull through somehow. You focus on school and passing the year, okay? _

“Mei? She’s our newest cook. Came here only two years ago. Refugee from the Indian Ocean. She, her mate and her mate’s niece managed to escape. Nasty story, really, but they found home here, so.” He shrugged. “Why? Do you know her?”

_ I’m so sorry… I’m sorry… Peter… I couldn’t… couldn’t protect you. Run, run and hide in the ocean. Run! _

Peter shook his head, dispelling the memory. “No, no. It—it sounded like someone I knew. It’s nothing.”

But when he looked up, both Eri and Wade were watching Peter closely, almost as if they were looking for the thread that would unravel him completely. That wouldn’t do. He needed a diversion.

“Do you always help in the kitchens?”

Eri snorted. “His tail was threatened so many times that they gave up and let him do his thing. Mainly make a nuisance of himself for these hard-working mer-people.”

“Hey!” Wade protested.

“Hear, hear!” called a huge merman, bigger than Wade, from a table nearby, his companions cheering and agreeing with him.

“I’ll have you know that the kitchen cooks and personnel L-O-V-E me!”

Eri only lifted an eyebrow at the finger pointed at his chest. “Yeah, sure, especially when you trip over your own tail and waste food or when your fingers ruin Aski’s arrangement for  _ your  _ table.”

“In my defense, it was  _ one  _ time, and I was famished! It’s a compliment to the cook that the king himself can’t wait to eat their food!”

“It’s an insult,” bellowed a deep voice from the other side of the mess hall where the kitchens were, “to all the merfolk who put hours of effort into creating it, is what it is!” 

“Betrayed from every side!” Wade cried, dramatically placing a hand over his chest. Most of the hall laughed at that. Even Eri grinned. 

Peter appreciated the sight — Eri was a gorgeous witch no matter what he did or didn’t put on — before he shook himself. That was not the time to feel anything for these people except gratitude that he was not in the dungeons and a high level of wariness. He mustn’t let his guard down.

Case in point, Wade’s arm covered his shoulders and Peter almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn’t paid attention, looking out into the hall at the people wading lazily around each table. The tables were pointless, in Peter’s opinion, because everything was floating anyway.

“Come on, baby boy,” Wade said cheerily as he dragged them towards the table closest to the kitchens and the only one looking back towards the hall.

“Why are you calling me that?” He tried to subtly put some distance between them, but Wade didn’t as much keep him close, as he simply waded back into his personal space. Like there was some current between them, drawing Wade in.

He kept thinking that the witch might get ideas and Peter really didn’t want to be the cause of a lovers’ spat because that would ensure his scaly ass would be out of that kingdom before lunch was done.

“Because you’re a twink.”

Peter was outraged and rightfully offended, but also confused as to how Wade knew that word. He hadn’t seen any humans around and the Trenches — like the rest of the merfolk world — didn’t agree with the surface. 

“I’m sixty-seven!” Which by human standards would be twenty-four, give or take a few years. 

“Trapped in a twink’s body. I see your pain.”

Peter looked behind Wade at the witch, but he wasn’t paying them any attention, too busy stopping every few tails to talk to people. The merfolk seemed to drink up his attention like teenage girls at their first concert.

“I can take you,” Peter heard himself say. 

Wade regaled him with a toothy grin. “I know.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t believe me.”

“Oh, I do, baby boy.”

“What do I need to do to make you stop calling me that?”

“Choose to eat with me.”

Peter looked at the king’s table, only several more tails away. “You’re already taking me to your table.”

“But you can refuse.”

“Can I?” Peter asked, very much doubting that statement.

Wade nodded. “Scout’s honor!”

He stared at the king. First ‘twink’ and now ‘Scout’s honor’? Peter was missing some information here. Wade either received visits from the surface or he went to the surface or— but he didn’t look like someone who would go out of their way to sink ships or submarines. He didn’t seem to have any interest in what was happening outside of his kingdom.

“Where did you hear that?”

Wade frowned, then his face cleared before he turned a calculating gaze on Peter. “Where did  _ you  _ hear that?”

Tread carefully, Peter. That was what his instincts and a wealth of experience with distrustful merfolk whispered to him.

“I heard it during my travels.” Nice save. “What about you?”

“Hm, something like that.” Which wasn’t exactly an answer, but Peter was going to let this one slide.

They reached Wade’s table, and they stopped before they went to the other side. Wade looked at Peter, waiting, and it took Peter a bit to realize that he was waiting for him to either accept the offer or refuse and find himself a different table.

He should refuse, then go and disappear into the crowd. Eating by the king’s side tended to attract a lot of attention.

But there was something about this king that both put Peter on the defensive and disarmed him at the same time. It was the weirdest combination and one he’d never felt with anyone else. Was it because Wade was such an unusual king? Or was it because Peter’s perception of him shifted and changed about every line that came out of the king’s mouth?

Curiosity was what usually got him in trouble, and he was sure that this time was not going to be any different. No matter how many excuses he made for himself, he already knew what he was going to answer the moment Wade asked him.

He nodded. “I’ll eat at your table.”

The smile that made Wade’s eyes shine wasn’t so much like a mouth full of knives as it resembled that of a kid who got his wish. Wade guided him to the place to his left while Eri took the one to his right.

“My loyal subjects,” Wade began and the hall fell quiet, every pair of eyes or more focused on them. “The apples of my many eyes.” Some snorts and huffs. “Today, we welcome our newest guest, Peter.”

“Hear, hear!” they said as one.

“He asked for sanctuary and I granted him that. He is welcome in our kingdom and at my table for as long as he wants to stay.”

“Yar!” the tables agreed.

“Treat him like you would treat my granny!”

“With a belt full of explosives strapped to her middle?” another quipped and Peter zeroed in on the wide shark grin.

“I meant my maternal granny, Gil! Get your stories straight.”

“It’s Serya!” the shark shouted back, good-naturedly. “And your gran gave the poisonous eels down by the Depression a run for their sea urchins!”

“You said it! I lost count how many times she poisoned me as a kid.”

“But what did your maternal gran do?” a mermaid asked.

“Ya! You never told us!”

“She raised this hunk of delectable meat, is what she did!”

“Cheers to that!” An octopus bubbled up and everyone raised their forks and clinked them against their neighbors. 

“Oh for Circe’s sake,” Peter heard Eri grumble before he leaned back and twirled his hand once to signal something behind Peter, before he shouted, “Aski! Food! I’m starving.”

A chorus of assent came from the rest of the tables and Wade motioned for the hall to settle. “Are you ready for the best lunch of your life? For I’ve seen the behind the scenes and let me tell ya a secret: It. Is. A  _ feast!”  _

“Like every day,” someone in the back shouted.

“Like every day!” Wade agreed, pointing a finger in the general direction of the voice. “Thank you for saying that, Berry or Benny or Derry or whoever you are. You’re my mermaid!”

“I’m an octo-man!”

“Ooh! Tentacle porn!”

“I’m more of a cuddler!”

“Porn with aftercare! My man!”

The entire hall laughed at that and soon a multi-colored chain of mermaids and mermen came out with platters filled with a variety of seafood, held in place by rib cages. 

Peter tried a mackerel with seaweed and before he knew it, he was filling his plate as inconspicuously as he could with all sorts of fish because he was  _ ravenous.  _ Everything tasted incredible and Peter couldn’t get enough of it. Manners were discarded for satisfying the primal need to fill his belly. It’d been who knew how long since Peter had so much food in front of him; longer still since he could take as much as he wanted without thinking about others.

“You’re making Aski and Ven shed unseen tears over there in the corner,” Wade said.

Peter froze, looking behind his shoulders to see the two cooks, built like brick houses with scars that looked like tattoos all over their upper torso and shaved heads, smiling at Peter. The similarities were too big for them to not be brothers. He swallowed.

“I—” Then he looked down at his plate and discovered that he had four more mackerels than he had originally put on his plate. He threw a confused look at the king who only grinned encouragingly. “These aren’t mine,” Peter said, even as he was eyeing them hungrily.

“No, none of that,” Wade replied. “No shame in being famished. There’s plenty more where these came from. If you keep it like this, you’ll be their favourite merman.”

“Siren,” Peter corrected without thinking.

Truth be told, male sirens were not that common. 

Scratch that.

They were more an oddity of nature than anything special. And Peter having lean muscles, but still defined enough to be on the right side of scrawny, and a tail that was longer than that of most mermen his age, meant that he could pass by as a merman and be considered a beauty lover rather than another species. Not all of them were built like a mountain. Many preferred beauty over strength, so they didn’t train themselves as much as other mermen did. 

He pressed his lips, cursing himself for that slip of the tongue.

“Are you now,” Wade said, toneless, and this time he didn’t even try to be subtle about putting more fish on his plate. 

Peter’s stomach gave a happy growl, but something in Wade’s eyes made him forget, for a second, about the delicious food in front of him. There was something very much like appraisal in Wade’s eyes, and Peter didn’t like that. Not when that could potentially mean that he’d be ransomed or, worse, imprisoned for exotic purposes.

Suddenly the food tasted like wet ash in his mouth and he swallowed the morsel with difficulty.

Eri’s head appeared from behind Wade’s back. “So that’s why you strangled me.”

“Tried to,” Peter muttered for all it was worth. 

“Sirens are so hot-blooded,” Eri continued either ignoring or not having heard what Peter just said. Wade, on the other hand, had heard and he was smirking. “Must be a side-effect of living near volcano vents.”

“I’m not,” Peter said around a big mouthful of fish.

“Uh-huh, tell that to someone who hasn’t had your fingers around their throat.”

“Is it  _ they _ now?” Peter inquired softly.

“Not yet. You’re not in the green, pretty boy.”

Well that was reassuring. Not.

Not that Peter wasn’t still suspicious of the witch. It was somehow comforting that the feeling was mutual. At least Peter could rely on that to keep the witch at a distance. He couldn’t say the same about the king who was looking at him more intently now than ever. That appraising look in his eyes didn’t bode well for Peter.

“So, Petey-pie, tell us about your travels,” Wade invited.

Maybe Peter should have flipped his curiosity off when he had the chance because now he could have been eating in peace and then disappear.

“What do you want to know?” 

He tried not to sound like he really didn’t want to have this conversation, but it was hard. Wade pushed a runaway half-cod back on top of Peter’s plate.

“How long have you been travelling?”

“About eight years, give or take.”

“That short, huh? Where did you travel?”

“Mostly along the Gulf Stream,” he said easily, neglecting to mention the settlements along the Canary current, “and once I went all the way up the Labrador current. Not much to see there. A few tribes, but they weren’t very welcoming.”

Wade snorted. “Yeah, not fond of strange mermen— or sirens. Any place in particular you liked?”

Was there any? He spent the past eight years running and settling for a couple of weeks at a time. A month was the most he stayed in one place and  _ oh,  _ what a mistake that had been. The place he had always liked the most was the surface— but that, too, had become dangerous for Peter. Was there really anywhere in the entire world that he could call home? He doubted. Any home he had ever found or made for himself, had been taken away from him. He was getting used to the idea of running away for the rest of his life. He only hoped that there would be places left in the world to run to.

“Not really,” he said in the end. “Every tribe had something unique that I liked, so I couldn’t really say.”

“Hm, is that so.” 

Again that tone of voice that put Peter on high alert. Sounded too much like he knew more about Peter than Peter had let on. But it wasn’t possible. Peter had become very good at keeping his past close and his secrets closer still. Not even the King Savis of Trimeria could detect the half lies in his half truths, and he was very sought after in diplomatic talks for his ability to read other merfolk or humans better than any other. At least to Peter’s knowledge. And he had enough of that from the month he spent in his kingdom and the curiosity he hadn’t been able to flip off then, too.

The only hope he had now was that he wouldn’t do something to garner this king’s wrath. He was sure he would not be able to get far.

Wade had something in his eyes whenever he looked at Peter that made Peter want to run and hide or play dead and hope the merman would lose interest in him.

“This food is the best I’ve had,” Peter said instead, making himself take another bite. “Your cooks have outdone themselves.”

Amusement filled the king’s face. Sharp and more like he was amused at Peter’s attempt at diverting attention rather than being pleased by the compliment. 

“And you don’t know the half of it.”

“But the compliment is well received, master Peter,” one of the cook brothers floating by the kitchen opening inclined his head graciously.

“I think,” Wade brought back Peter’s attention again, “I’ll give you the outside tour after this.”

“Like hell you’re doing that,” Eri jumped, eyes narrowed. “It’s my responsibility. Besides, you have a ton of other stuff to do, so don’t even  _ think  _ about shirking them or tonight’s dinner will have your head on a platter as the main dish.”

“Ugh, not that again,” someone at the nearby table whined, and Peter stared at his green gills, trying to decide if that was their natural color or not.

“Please, Your Majesty, I still have nightmares. It— you—  _ talked.” _

Wade ignored both mermen. “I’m sure I can be absent for an hour or two.”

“Not when your crazy War General is present,” one of the cooks quipped. “Do you want to be responsible for another unsanctioned attack?” 

The furious bubbling of something on fire had Peter turn his head in time to see a knife plunge into the marble right next to the cook’s ear before it fizzled out into bubbles and disappeared.

“Say that again to my face, Aski,” a woman’s voice cut through the boisterousness of the hall.

“Wanna resettle the scores, Psylocke?”

“Bring it on, old man, I’m always ready to kick your scaly ass!”

Wade’s booming laughter interrupted the heated debate. “Today’s meal is full of action and surprises, ain’t it?” He looked at Peter and Peter had no idea how to answer that or even if Wade wanted an answer at all.

“You’re not getting out of your responsibilities.” Eri saved him from that decision. “You put me in charge of him and I’m going to see this through. Stop meddling in my business!”

“But I know all the best places!”

“This is not a joy tour. He only needs to know where to go and where not to when outside.”

“Boooring. What about the tunnels and the lava river and the—”

“What’s the point of that? He won’t ever get anywhere near those.”

“But what’s a tour without the best scenic view of all the awesome places this kingdom has?”

“Again, this is  _ not  _ a fun tour.”

“Then let him decide.” All at once, both the king and his witch turned their attention to Peter. And it was possible that some of the eavesdroppers at nearby tables were also looking at Peter. “What kind of tour do you want to have? Fun, full of danger and awesomeness, or boring to death, better to not even think about it?”

Eri sent him a glare.

“I wouldn’t want to come between you,” Peter said diplomatically. “So whatever you decide—” 

Wade fluttered Peter’s protest away with his hand as if he was trying to get rid of a bank of fish. “Eri won’t mind.”

“I’m minding,” Eri said through gritted teeth.

“I appreciate the offer,” Peter anted up his politeness, feeling incredibly uncomfortable, “but your mate disagrees with that.”

Eri choked on water; it sounded like someone trying to suck in the very last of their drink through a straw and getting mostly air.

He didn’t think that a hall full of so many boisterous merfolk could stop breathing altogether. But it happened. Only the marine creatures floating freely above them could be heard. 

It was Wade who broke the tomb silence by guffawing so hard he waded away from the table. “That’s the funniest shit I’ve heard in decades,” he said between wheezes. 

The whole room joined him with hearty laughter, the conversations resuming.

“I’ll seriously maim you if you ever say that again,” Eri threatened Peter and he instinctively waded back along the table when sparks of violet flashed in his eyes. “Let me be clear: there’s absolutely nothing between us. Never was. Never will be. He’s like that annoying, overprotective brother nobody wants around. And I’m more his caretaker than anything— like  _ that.” _

“Straight to my feels. My best buddy striking where it hurts!” He hitched his behaviour to the melodrama post.

Eri ignored him. “Besides, my magic is not compatible with him.” 

“Aw, you love me, Eri.”

“No, I tolerate you and your chaotic energy only because it’s messing with my ability to singe your tail.”

“So,” Peter interrupted before Wade could say more, “you’re not— mated?”

“No!” Eri said in outrage. 

“But—” He looked at Wade. “You’re wearing his mark.” Peter pointed at Wade’s belt. 

“Oh, this? This is Eri’s love letter to me. I always wear it to commemorate—”

“Wade,” Eri said between gritted teeth and the phantom feel of skittering legs on his skin made Peter shiver, his entire being revolting.

“Fine, fine, don’t get your magic in a twist.” Wade giggled. “It’s Eri’s protection,” he told Peter. “I wear it constantly since— well, since a long time ago. Stuff happened,  _ didn’t  _ die—”

“You almost did,” Eri growled darkly. 

“Eri cried buckets, if he could with all the water around, but he made the appropriate sounds.”

Eri rolled his eyes. “If you had listened to me and left me there.”

“But I couldn’t.”

The sigh that ushered out of Eri’s gills on his neck sounded more fondly exasperated than angry.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Two weeks had passed since the grand lunch. Not that there had not been grand lunches and dinners every day, in Peter’s opinion. It looked and felt like every day was cause for celebration. 

He’d managed on more than one occasion to excuse himself when Wade inevitably would ask him to dine at his table. The first time Peter tried a ‘no’ on his lips, Wade had accepted without a fuss, but the whole dinner Peter felt like he was being watched, even though whenever he looked over, Wade was in conversation with Eri.

Two weeks and Peter thought that Wade and everybody else’s infatuation with him had died down. That was true about the latter. His quiet nature, though witty mouth, invited respect for both Peter’s knowledge, but also his space. He didn’t talk much about his travels, but whenever he happened upon a discussion about effective ways of drilling and securing tunnels or history arguments that merfolk usually got into a fight for, he’d always have a suggestion here and there. So whether it was about certain table games that Peter had absorbed through his travel or settling arguments about cultural aspects of other tribes Peter had been to, many appreciated his insights. 

And they respected his space, unless Peter sought them himself. He suspected it was because he had a king almost constantly somewhere in his peripheral vision, no matter if he was roaming the halls of the castle or the grounds outside. 

How he managed to attend to his kingly duties and still be almost constantly somewhere within Peter’s visual, baffled him completely.

Sometimes Eri kept him company, and Peter would have found it weird except he knew that there was mutual distrust between them. So Peter didn’t put it past him to have made it his personal mission to keep an eye on Peter. 

But each time he was joined by the sea witch, it was less tense than before. On one occasion, he actually smiled when he intercepted Peter and told him that he’d be spending some time with him. Later on, he alluded to the War Council being more difficult to deal with than previously, hence the break. Psylocke was vying for a preemptive attack on this unnamed kingdom because Wade’s scouts have crossed paths with the other scouts on more than one occasion. But Eri was against it on grounds of the truce the other king had asked for six decades ago and which still held, and Wade abstained from favoring either. 

He didn’t ask who they wanted to attack. They weren’t at that level and it wasn’t Peter’s business. The less he knew about the inner workings of that kingdom, the less information he’d have to give to his future captors.

Oh, he wasn’t as stupid as to think that he’d never be captured. Yes, he was going to do his damnedest not to be, but he also prepared himself for that eventuality. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay on the run for the rest of his life.

Some of Peter’s worries lessened as the days passed. No missive, no visit, no suspicion. For all intents and purposes, he was part of the Trenches Kingdom. It should have made him twice as wary as before, but it didn’t. Not for lack of trying. There simply was something calming about the place and the merfolk. He wasn’t treated differently just because the king seemed to be around Peter more than he was around anyone else— well, Eri was still the one who had unrestricted access to the king no matter the time. 

But he noticed that now nobody — not even mermaids or octomen he had never seen before — was reticent to slap his shoulder in a show of camaraderie at the end of a conversation or touch the tip of his tail with theirs as a non-verbal ‘see you later’ and ‘take care of yourself’ all wrapped up in one. 

And he realized that he didn’t just fit in because the king was paying him particular attention. He fitted in because he was considered someone who belonged there, which was much more dangerous.

But curiosity was a fickle friend.

“I know you told me not to bring this up again,” Peter began one afternoon as he and Eri were strolling along the base of the northern embankments, built to break the cold water currents. “But if you two, you and Wade I mean, are not— you know— then… uh.”

Eri had taken to regard Peter with a certain mirth in their eyes. Not always, but sometimes Peter caught it before Eri schooled their features. It might have been because they had allowed themself to relax in Peter’s presence enough that Peter now had been granted permission to use their preferred pronouns.

“You mean that we are not mates.” Their palms glowed violet as they checked the wards. This was the first time Eri allowed Peter with them on their daily patrols. 

And it was the first time that Peter didn’t feel apprehension at Eri using magic around him. It was actually quite mesmerizing to see Eri work with their magic in non-lethal situations.

“Yeah.”

“What’s the question here?” It was good that they found this amusing.

Peter gathered his wits. “Doesn’t he have, uh, someone special? A betrothed somewhere for a political alliance?”

Eri didn’t even hide their smirk. “Such a bold question, siren.  _ Political alliance?  _ You’re so unromantic. Why the interest all of a sudden?”

“It’s nothing. Just. If there is someone special he intends to take as a mate I, uh, wouldn’t want to come between.”

That stopped Eri in their tracks and submitted Peter to a full once-over. “This is the second time you said that. Why are you so afraid of ‘coming between’ anyone? Did something happen? Anybody give you grief?”

“No! Not— nobody said anything. I just— I’ve had— trouble in the past where attentions were misplaced and misunderstandings almost led to bloodshed. I wouldn’t want a repeat of that and— well, he’s a king, right?”

“Uh-huh, last I checked.”

“Right, stupid question,” he muttered to himself.

Eri’s face was becoming more and more confused and Peter tried desperately to grapple with his own thoughts. What was the point of this conversation again?

“So you’re afraid of attracting the ire of this fantasy mate, is what you’re saying?”

“Yeah? I mean, he’s the king. I really don’t want to cause trouble.”

“What’s really bothering you, little siren?” they asked after a few moments.

Bubbles fizzled viciously around his elbows as he sighed through his gills. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Is  _ Wade  _ giving you trouble?”

“No?”

“What’s he done now?” they said with a long-suffering bubbly sigh.

“Nothing, really. Just— he’s always there, wherever I go. I feel like he wants something from me, but I’m not sure what. And I haven’t caused trouble, just so you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Eri regarded him silently, a calculating gaze. “It’s probably just Wade trying to make sure that his first guest in years is having a good time in his kingdom.”

“That’s— weird. I mean, kings don’t care much about their guests unless they’re dignitaries or someone they want to make alliances with. I’m neither.”

Another sigh. “He doesn’t look like it, but he cares about the people who live here, whether they’ve been here for centuries or they just arrived. He hates the throne and the expectations that come with it. He’s like a toddler in diplomatic talks, but he’s good at reading people and sussing out lies. All in all, he’s an insufferable king who hasn’t made my or the other council members’ lives easy. But the people respect him, trust him with their safety. That’s what makes Wade a leader they’d follow blindfolded. Not royal blood or all the battles he’s won. It’s the safety he provides.”

Peter nodded, staring at the bouquets of algae fluctuating lazily close to his tail. He saw that during his first meal there, how people joked and talked to Wade as if he was their friend and not their king. That was something. And it was something precious that not many kings or queens could say they had.

“So you’re saying that I should ignore it? That it’s part of who he is?”

Eri waded closer, probably because they felt Peter’s doubts in his voice or simply they grew comfortable enough around him to instinctively do that.

“For your sanity,” they said, “yes.”

Peter nodded again and took a deep breath, but then Eri said loudly, “did you sneak out of the Council meeting again?” and Peter looked up at them in confusion before he followed their gaze to see Wade approaching fast, even though his tail beat a staccato rhythm.

Instinctively, Peter waded away when Wade reached them, more out of surprise from the dread and warm, fuzzy feelings that pooled in his stomach at the sight of the merman, than anything else. The dread was there only because Peter realised that he had not heard Wade’s heartbeat approaching and he knew from his first experience that it had a distinct, strong beat. He wouldn’t have been able to miss it even if he was sleepwalking.

Wade’s gaze was on Peter even as he fluttered a dismissive hand. “Psylocke and Aski are at it again. Thought I could find something else to do. Here, baby boy, brought you something. Straight from the kitchens.”

And he pushed a sort of basket made of interwoven algae or some other plant that looked like that.

“You left those two unsupervised?!” Bubbles fizzled furiously around Eri’s neck.

“Relax, they’re grown-ass merfolk. They can control themselves.” He wiggled the basket and Peter took it instinctively. 

He felt, more than saw, how intently Wade was watching Peter as he opened the top bit enough to have mackerel float up slowly. 

“Hope you like them. It’s a new recipe. Ven wouldn’t tell me what he did to them, but they’re delicious.”

Off the expectant, giddy look on Wade’s face, Peter took one and bit into it. Indeed, it didn’t taste like the usual serving of mackerel. This was softer and had a distinct lemongrass taste, just enough to make the flavours mix well together. Peter made an appreciative sound and maybe he shouldn’t have done that because something flickered in Wade’s gaze and he waded closer to Peter.

“My king,” a guard came approaching them fast, “Council members Aski and Psylocke have torn down the south wall of the War Room.”

“They did what,” Eri said through gritted teeth, throwing a murderous look at Wade. “I swear I’ll feed them both to your ‘exotic piranha’.”

Wade snorted even as Peter heard the air quotes around those words, but no matter how much he wanted to ask what Eri meant, he was, at the moment, preoccupied with trying to swallow the bite of mackerel with a king that was most definitely looming over Peter. 

“So what have you two been up to?” he asked Peter in the way someone with loads of time on their hands would.

“Oh, no, no,” Eri interrupted as they took Wade’s arm and pulled, not sparing any glance Peter’s way. “You’re going back with me. This is your mess and as king you’re required to clean it up.”

“Who says that?”

“I say!”

“But Petey-pie—”

“Will be escorted back to the castle.” They threw the guard a look, which prompted a confident nod from him. Wade scoffed. “Don’t you dare, Wade.” There must have been something in Eri’s voice because Wade sighed and let himself be pulled back. 

“I’ll see you later, baby boy, I promise!” he called out cheerily and Peter waved awkwardly back, but by then the king was too far away to see it.

“Master Peter,” the guard said right next to him and Peter startled, having forgotten about him, “if you will.” 

He nodded, but he saw the glances he was throwing the few mackerel that had floated out of the bag. So Peter extended the little basket his way.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” the guard said politely, though he was eying them curiously.

“Ven made them. A new recipe,” Peter offered as an excuse to get the guard to take some. He knew everyone loved the brothers’ cooking.

Something lit up in the guard’s eyes and he swallowed. “The king gave them to you,” he countered, though weakly.

Peter nodded absently, still caught up on that particular. He couldn’t fully understand why Wade did it. The feathery fins on his tail had gone back to a pleasant turquoise colour a few days ago, sign that he was as healthy as a siren can be.

“And I’m sharing them with you. There are too many for me to finish and it’d be a waste not to.” Which was partially a lie. Truth be told, if Peter had something to eat, he would always share it with anyone who was nearby. He couldn’t help it.

“A sacrilege,” he heard the guard whisper solemnly and dared take the three pieces that were out of the basket.

He, too, made an appreciative sound, but much more loudly than Peter. It made him grin as he swam back to the castle, guard in tow.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

It was later that week when they were having dinner, Peter once again denying the king his presence at the royal table, that Eri threw Peter yet another suspicious look— or at the very least a foreboding frown. He’d been giving Peter  _ and  _ Wade that look for a few days now, probably ever since the basket incident.

The issue, Peter was starting to see, was that instead of the king’s infatuation with the new (temporary) resident showing signs of fading away, it was growing stronger by the day. And it had become such that even Eri, who had told Peter to ignore Wade’s behaviour, was looking like he was rethinking those same words.

Wade had been using every excuse he could think of to engage Peter in conversation whenever their paths crossed. Even going so far as to giving Peter a cooled down lava rock in the shape of a seahorse. That was Wade’s excuse to give it to him. It looked like a seahorse and, apparently, seahorses made him think of Peter.

He didn’t know how to deal with this king. Fending off advances had been easy in the past, but Peter’s usual tactics of extreme politeness and avoidance only seemed to go over Wade’s head instead. 

And Peter was feeling an oncoming wave of full-blown panic, something that never happened in the past because he never let things degenerate to this stage. But dealing with Wade was making Peter feel unmoored, like the king, through his mere presence, whisked away Peter’s ability to control the situation completely.

He had time to meet Eri’s eyes for a second before he was interrupted. Nobody could frown like Eri, all warning and dark, painful promises. An attending mermaid (the newest thing that Peter was saddled with) kept Peter’s plate full, which weirded Peter out so much that his stomach closed up because his neighbours kept glancing at him as if he was an apparition. Something that shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“Is the food not to your liking, master Peter?” the mermaid asked amiably which drew the attention of other tables nearby.

He couldn’t do it. He really— no.

So he excused himself from the table in a hurry, and he heard an angry ‘stay’ that might have been Eri or it might have been Psylocke, their voices were so similar when they got angry.

But it was Eri who followed him outside which made Peter sigh in relief, but also fill his stomach with dread. How was he supposed to navigate this? In all of his travels, Peter had never received this brand of attention from a king or a chieftain. He knew the signs of someone finding him attractive and wanting to bed him or someone who was only after his intellect. But Wade didn’t seem to be after either from what he could tell. And he didn’t know how to tell Wade to back off without offending him. 

“Are you all right?” Eri was frowning as they approached.

Peter shook his head, not even bothering with a verbal answer.

“What was that all about?”

“I want to know that myself,” he said miserably.

“What’s wrong, Peter?” Wade asked as he swam with purpose towards him and Eri.

Again, instinctively, Peter waded back.

“I told you to stay put, Wade,” Eri griped, throwing Peter and the distance between them a befuddled look.

“I’m the king.”

“Of course you choose this moment to use that as an excuse,” Eri muttered with resignation.

“Peter, are you okay?” Wade asked, coming closer, but stopping in his tracks when Peter hit the wall, his heartbeat thundering in his chest.

There was something happening in that moment that Peter could not understand and half of his instincts were screaming at him to run and never look back while the other half was urging him to get closer.

“He’s afraid,” Eri said softly, realization dawning on their face, “of you. What did you do Wade?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Yes, you did something to make him react this way towards you.”

Wade looked at Eri. “Seriously, I didn’t do anything.”

Their eyes roamed over Wade’s face and something in there must have appeased whatever suspicion they had towards the king.

“He didn’t,” Peter found his voice, breathing erratically. But Wade wasn’t at fault here. Something was happening with Peter that he couldn’t explain even to himself. “He didn’t do anything. Something— there must have been something in the food that didn’t agree with me. I’ll have to excuse myself tonight. I’m sorry.”

He scurried down the hall, not before he heard Wade say, “he was afraid, not ill. Afraid. I wanted to make sure he had a good time,” with a certain despondency, and Eri’s reply, “you might’ve gone too far.” 

*** 

Yes, Peter was afraid. Not of Wade, per se, but of what Wade made him feel: a conundrum of emotions so complicated and layered that they felt like an oncoming panic attack.

He had no idea why or what made him react like that, when he had been perfectly fine during the first week. Was it the attention and his constant presence that put Peter off? That was not— entirely true. He must confess he’d found it weird at first, but not unexpected because he thought Wade was after one of the two things Peter could offer him: his mind or his body. 

But the last week argued against that. If the king wanted to bed him, he had ample opportunities to ask. Poseidon knew, Wade was a lot of things, but shy was not one of them. However, apart from the offer to eat at his table with Eri and all the others present, he never invited Peter anywhere where they could be alone. Which was also why he shot down the second reason why a king would offer Peter this much attention: his intellect.

And now he had no control over where this attention was going because it didn’t seem to be distrust. It was something else he was after, and Peter was not sure he had it in him to give. That was the root of his dread. If he let this go on, let himself get involved more than he was, then he wouldn’t be able to know when it was time to move on, when it became too dangerous for those involved.

He cleared his throat more than once, an itch to sing that always came when he was overwhelmed with emotions. As a siren, even a male one, he could, theoretically, sing as beautifully and as hauntingly as any siren (if he wanted to). His uncle and aunt did, and it was so beautiful that Peter always cried. Part of it was because of the emotions they evoked, and part of it was because he could never join them. No matter how much he tried to emulate his uncle’s beautiful singing or his aunt’s melancholic one, he had never been able to join their voices.

His aunt and uncle stopped singing after a while, and Peter mourned the loss of their beautiful songs. 

He remained in his room for the entirety of the following day, even though Eri came by several times and tried to talk him into coming out. Pressure had stopped working on him a long time ago, so even if he thought he was offending the king and his subjects by locking himself in his room, Peter didn’t feel any more in control of himself than he had felt the previous night.

The next day, Eri knocked and wouldn’t leave. They kept jabbering on and on about boring stuff so much so that Peter almost wanted to squeeze through the coral slats on his window and never return. But he opened the door only because Eri started waxing poetically over the food he had brought, and the bastard made it so the smell reached Peter through the door.

And he was very hungry by that point.

He tried to take the tray and close the door in Eri’s face, but Eri was more shrewd than they let on, so their deft hands twirled the tray around their back and then pushed it up above their head.

“You’ll have to let me in, pretty boy. I was expressly ordered to make sure you ate everything.”

“Is it poisoned?” Peter bit out. He was so tired of the whole situation, his stupid, annoying thoughts, Eri’s teasing.

Eri gasped and waded back a bit. “How dare you insult the brothers’ food? Do you want to be challenged to a duel? I’ll warn you now: you’ll not survive. Not even Wade can save you from that.” There wasn’t much bite to their words, but even in the state Peter was in, he could see the warning in their eyes.

Peter felt bad. Not because he was afraid of dying in a stupid duel (if Eri was to be believed), but because the brothers didn’t deserve his mood and scatching words. They’d only ever been accommodating and respectful of Peter.

“Sorry,” he said, dragging his palm over his face. “That was rude of me. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Uh-huh, I gathered that from the look on your face.”

Peter nodded in resignation and motioned for Eri to come in. The witch swam to the desk pushed near one of the windows and placed the tray there. Then they propped their generous bum on the edge of the desk and crossed their arms. Usually their long hair, full of small and thick braids, was black (except the second day when Eri presented themself as a he to Peter and their hair reflected that), but today it was neon orange. It almost looked alive and it hurt to look at them, but at the same time Peter’s eyes were drawn to them.

“So care to explain what’s happening to you?”

They didn’t stop Peter from uncovering the tray and eating the fish and sea vegetables. He didn’t answer until he polished the whole tray.

“Well?” 

“I’m not sure. It’s— complicated, I guess. I should be okay tomorrow, if I manage to sleep.”

Eri hummed, then seemed to have an idea. “Have you been courted before?”

“Uh, why are you asking?”

They shrugged, and it looked nothing like the nonchalant, I’m-not-leading-towards-something look that they were going for.

“I know how siren mating works in theory. I’ve never had siren friends. Your race generally prefers to keep to yourselves unless you’re looking for a mate. Yet, I’ve never seen it in real life. But I’m starting to see a pattern here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“So for one, I know that within siren culture, there’s a difference between how male and female sirens like to be courted. Or rather, what they respond positively to.”

“I— didn’t know that.” Peter shook his head once. “No, this is not important. I’ll be up on my tail tomorrow, no problem. So you shouldn’t—”

“For example, female sirens,” Eri continued blithely, “are almost never monogamous. They like to have multiple partners at once, and always from other merfolk species because that’s how they produce more offspring, while siren-only pairings only make one baby siren. They also like to be courted with beautiful, shiny trinkets. The thing is that there aren’t many accounts about male sirens. It’s like a well kept secret within your culture. I’ve only heard rumours about them being the ones who mate for life, and that they need a blood offering for them to choose a mate. I’m not sure if it’s because they need a mate strong enough to protect them, or if they need their mate to show them that they’d go that far for them because there is no one else for them but the siren. So tell me, Peter, are the rumours true? And which one is it for the blood offering, if it’s true? I’m very curious now.”

Peter waded back a bit, Eri’s shrewd smile making him a bit uncomfortable.

“Uh— I don’t know. I never—” 

With a theatrical sigh, Eri leaned back, shaking their head in faux-dejection. “Of course you haven’t. You’ve been on the run most of your life. No time for romance.”

“What? No. I haven’t— I’ve been travelling these past few years. Visiting places.”

Eri rolled their eyes. “Wade sussed you out from the first moment. No traveller would have attacked as viciously as you did.”

Peter felt his defensiveness rising. “Maybe I was attacked on my way here and lashed out in self-defence.”

“That might be so. But afterwards? Trying to blend in enough to be considered of this place, but not enough to be seen, and no grand tales of your travels. Do you want to know what I think happened last evening?”

“Be my guest,” Peter bit sarcastically, grasping at straws to keep himself in control, which only pulled an amused smile from Eri.

“I believe you realized that out of everyone here, the king was the one who saw you the most and it freaked you out because that was exactly what you didn't want to happen.”

“What does that even mean?” He tried to sound confused, but he felt he only managed to sound like Eri hit the mark.

“I don’t know what happened to you or who you’re running from,” Eri said, changing the angle, “but having ‘travelled’ for as long as you did, taught you that being part of the wall decorations ensures that you can leave at any time without raising suspicion. And by the way, just so we’re on the same page, you’re awful at that. You’ve been awful since you came. ‘Blending in’, pfft. You’ve been doing anything  _ but _ .”

“I can’t… they needed help. I knew the answers.”

Eri grins sharply. “Yes, that right there. You don’t have a bad bone in your body. Hence why I’m even broaching the courting subject with you.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, a roiling wave of emotions raising inside him. His whole body tensed, even his tail stopped wading and let himself float close to the floor. He wasn’t going to let Eri be his undoing. He’d had practice keeping his secrets hidden and his emotions in control. This was not going to best him.

Eri seemed to catch on to what Peter was doing, their pointed stare relenting.

“So you had a panic attack. I’m glad you didn’t decide to leave us. You’re more protected here than outside,” they said simply.

“What,” the word whooshed from his lips like the bubbles that fizzled around his ribs.

Eri swam towards the door. “Wade promised to leave you alone, so you should join us tonight. Nobody should give you trouble.”

Peter found his voice, still reeling from the conversation. “Did Wade send you?”

Eri snorted. “I sent myself.” Then they amended, “but I could also say that he’d probably manage to sleep tonight, if he saw you in flesh and blood, but the choice needs to be yours. He’ll have to deal with it, no matter what you decide.”

They left Peter with a lot more to think about than before. And new emotions.

***

He didn’t really want to greet the others and have suspicious or pitying looks thrown his way. By this point, he was sure that most of the merfolk he usually interacted with would have picked up on his absence. Maybe leaving the mess hall the way he had, had not been the best course of action, but true to Eri’s words, he had really panicked.

Just as he was reaching the corner before the mess hall, he heard familiar voices and immediately concealed his heartbeat now that he was calm and in control of himself.

“— and pull up the barriers,” Wade said, tone hard and cold.

“One way or full?”

“Full. Nothing gets in or out without my explicit permission, understood?”

A sigh. “Yes, my liege.”

“And don’t tell him.”

There was a pause and Peter waded closer to the corner. “Are you—”

“I’m not suggesting, Eri,” Wade said, a warning in his voice that made Peter shiver.

He heard the bubbles of a powerful tail and Peter waited for the second one. It took a bit, but Eri left, too, and Peter could breathe.

True to Eri’s promise (or Wade’s), no one even looked at him, least of all the king. The two occupants of the royal table looked grim and lost in their thoughts, and the cook brothers were not at the entrance to their kitchen, surveying the masses of people eating their food. 

Finally, he was just another face in the crowd, inconsequential, unwanted, alone. That was exactly what he always strived to be.

Then why did he feel like he was a spectator at his own funeral and the food tasted of wet ashes? 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

It was a nightmare that woke him up.

At least that was what he was telling himself the moment a violet-eyed sea witch barged into his room, prepared to unleash their magic.

“Where’s the intruder?” Eri growled. “Where’s the sea witch? I didn’t feel the wards…” They trailed off as they took notice of Peter who had ducked behind the bed, his back to the wall, and tail folded between his arms. “Are you okay? Did someone attack you? Where is it?” They waded closer, eyes searching each nook and cranny of the room for any surprise appearance.

Peter shook his head which wasn’t much different than how much his body was shaking. They frowned as they came closer and the moment they touched Peter’s forearm, they inhaled sharply, pulling back as if they had been burned.

“You,” they whispered, shock and confusion warring in their dull violet eyes. “It was you. You said the words. I can feel their echo on your skin.”

“N-no, no. I didn’t. It—it was a nightmare,” he said, shaking his head vehemently. “Just a nightmare. A nightmare,” he whispered to himself, fighting to push back the panic wanting to suffocate him. He didn’t believe it. None of it. It wasn’t true just like all his other nightmares. Not true.

“Peter.” There was a command in their voice that Peter couldn’t ignore. When he looked up, Eri met his gaze with a determined set to their jaw. They looked so big and imposing floating just mere feet away from Peter. “Why were you chanting the incantation to dissolve all the wards in this kingdom?”

“I— I—” Had he been? “I wasn’t.”

“Try that again,” he demanded; Peter’s brain filtered the pronoun from the way Eri talked and looked at him. “I heard you. You were in my head, inciting me to chant the same spell. Why? How? You’re not a sea—” 

Quick as an eel, Eri took Peter’s arm, palm glowing violet, and Peter hissed, feeling the magic coursing through his body. It was more invasive than the first time he permitted this, because this time it was looking, searching for something. He felt the moment Eri found what he was looking for. Or rather: didn’t find.

“Your magic,” Eri said faintly, horror slowly filling his beautiful features. “You— how are you still alive?”

Peter was trying to understand what he was saying, but couldn’t.

“I don’t have magic. Never did.”

“No, because it was taken away from you.”

He shook his head. “No. My parents…”

“Who are your parents?”

Peter threw him a suspicious look.

“Who are your parents,” he repeated flatly.

“Were,” he corrected quietly. “Richard and…”

Eri covered his mouth. “Mary Parker? You’re a Parker?” Peter didn’t want to confirm that, his habit of dealing in half-truths coming up with a vengeance, but he did. There, in the small hours of the day, he revealed information about his past he never told anyone with a simple nod. “Goddess beyond!” He waded away, towards the window, still looking at Peter as if he was seeing a ghost.

“How do you— they died.”

Eri nodded furiously. “Yes, they did. Performing the most forbidden of magic. The Thirteen Tribulations.”

“The what?”

“That’s why they— but why,” he muttered to himself, then looked up at Peter, “why did they take away your magic? To perform such powerful magic they must have known that it had horrifying consequences.”

Peter sprang up and into Eri’s personal space. “What kind of consequences? What do you know?”

Eri swallowed. “I think we need to sit down for this.”

And they did, even though Peter felt all sorts of uncomfortable and jittery, as if he was trying to unearth something that was better left underground.

“Richard and Mary had become famous sea witches when the threat of brainwashing came to this ocean. They were the ones that formed the first sanctuaries for sea witches where they offered protection from persecution. This was around 400 years ago.”

“No, mom and dad couldn’t have been—”

“That old? Oh, believe me, they were. And powerful. Average merfolk live around three centuries, but if they’re also sea witches, then their life span doubles, and, in some cases, even triples. Your mother had been a mermaid and a sea witch all her life, but your father, a male siren, came into his powers after he met her. Or so the tales go.”

“There are tales about my parents?”

“Sure there are. But they’re told only within sea witch circles or those allied with us.”

“Okay, and what does this have to do with their deaths or anything at all?”

“A particular story that many sea witches like to repeat— at least they did… before… anyway, this story is about a prophecy. Fast-forward three centuries or so after they established sanctuaries across the Atlantic Ocean, and managed to form alliances with most tribes, and you were born. But before you opened your eyes, a sea witch took refuge with the coven.

“She hailed from the Indian Ocean, and said she’d been guided to them because she had a prophecy for Richard and Mary Parker. The prophecy foretold of a sea witch that would reign over the Trenches and would bring peace over all the oceans and the seas in the world. So everyone thought that Mary would be that witch because of her work throughout the Atlantic Ocean and because she was already in talks with the Indian and the Pacific Ocean, until… well.”

“I don’t believe in prophecies.”

Eri smiled weakly. “You don’t have to for them to be real. But that is not all that she said. She also foretold that their cub will become a weapon in the hands of those who hunted and brainwashed sea witches and bring about a reign of terror.”

“But that didn’t happen. I’m not a weapon as you saw. I barely remember their faces. My only childhood memories are of the—” He clamped his mouth shut.

“The surface, yes. You were left in the care of your father’s brother and his wife. They were both Halves like your father.”

“How—”

“I know a lot about your parents. They did a lot of good in a world that made little sense— and a lot of damage to you.”

“What happened?”

“I can only draw logical conclusions from what I see now and what I heard then. I believe they first tried to hide you from their persecutors, but it didn’t work in the long run, so they performed The Thirteen Tribulations. It’s a ritual that cannot be done unless all thirteen witches consent and embrace the consequences of it.”

“They took away my—” Eri nodded. “What were the consequences?” Peter demanded, his heartbeat elevated.

Eri took a shaky breath, hands wringing each other. “They— they would relinquish their own power at the same time.”

“They couldn’t fight other sea witches,” Peter breathed out.

Eri nodded gravely. “The thirteen were hunted down one by one and killed over the centuries. I assume they sent you with your aunt and uncle to the surface decades ago, as a last ditch effort to hide you from their enemies.”

“Not well enough,” Peter said through gritted teeth, his blood boiling. There was a certain clarity that came over him now that he finally had the last piece of his past. 

He caught Eri’s confusion and explained. “They found us eight years ago and killed my aunt and uncle,” he said darkly. “I fled back to the ocean after that because I couldn’t—” His voice broke unexpectedly; he took deep breaths. “I couldn’t save them. The assassins were too strong.”

“I’m sorry, Peter.”

They didn’t say anything for a while, letting the echolocation of whales and dolphins wash over them. 

“You got something wrong, though,” Peter said suddenly.

“What’s that?”

“I wasn’t inciting you to chant those words. I was repeating them.”

“What?” Eri straightened up from their slouch, searching Peter’s face. 

Peter closed his eyes, trying to remember. He could only see flashes now that he was looking for the nightmare with intention. 

“My nightmares are usually abstract and full of fear and pain, but this time… this feels intentional. I don’t know how, but those are not my words. I don’t even know what they mean, but I can visualize them perfectly.”

Clarity fell over Eri’s features and they tore off down the hallway, leaving Peter behind with too many questions.

*** 

He found out from a harried guard that apparently the King of Trimeria himself was at the front entrance into Wade’s territory and that two sea witches were trying to get through the wards.

Later on, he found out from Eri that the wards had Wade’s immortal blood in them (and that cleared one piece of information about Wade) so the witches would die before they’d manage to untwist them. But also that they weren’t trying to get through.

The only one displeased that this wasn’t considered a direct threat was Psylocke.

Wade kept his distance from Peter, although his attention immediately zeroed in on him when he came into the throne room where almost all the castle was gathered. Weirdly enough, Peter had started to sample off a particular set of heartbeats, and he hadn’t noticed it until that moment. He nodded and the king gave a single nod back before returning to the guards and other councilfolk.

“The six decades long peace treaty is void.” Psylocke’s voice rang across the long hall. “I say we storm into the Unseelie Court and show them who they’re up against!”

“And have another war on our hands? Pass,” Aski challenged, unbothered by the passion and anger behind Psylocke’s words.

“So you’d rather sit here, protected by wards while the scum of the ocean spins lies about this kingdom,  _ your  _ king?”

Aski grinned toothily. Even his lips had punctured tattoos on them. “If our king was swayed so easily by words, you’d have been on the throne already.”

“I would never—” She cut herself off, no doubt feeling the change in the water. Even Wade, who by then had been reading a report from a piece of glass, glanced up at her, waiting. He was eerily still and quiet which, Peter was starting to understand, was Wade’s kingly persona. “I pledged my loyalty to you, my king, and I am bound by my word,” she continued, addressing Wade with a deferential bow. “But I can’t stand by while someone squanders your name and this kingdom!”

“Need I remind you,” Eri spoke up from Wade’s right, hands clasped behind his back, “that this kingdom was not built on words, but on actions. Everyone knows not to trifle with the King of the Trenches.”

“Then why was Savis at the gates?”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat and Wade’s attention momentarily left Psylocke’s to lock on Peter before it returned to the mermaid in front of him.

“He had no army. He didn’t pose a threat.” Aski waved off her concerns.

“He had two witches with him who were trying to break through the wards. What’s that if not a blatant attack?”

“They didn’t and they weren’t attacking,” Erin said, “Pe— I intercepted their intentions and alerted Wade. As I said, they only wanted to send a message.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. If that message was the incantation that had Eri barge into Peter’s room, ready to maim, then he was with Psylocke here. That was not a peaceful message.

“What kind of message requires two witches to send?” Psylocke wasn’t budging. “And the king himself.”

“It was intended for me,” Wade spoke for the first time, face carved in stone, but eyes solely on Psylocke. His heartbeat was steady and strong. Peter felt lulled into believing him. “I have something he desires and he asked for it back. I refused.”

A cold shiver went down Peter’s spine at those words. His mouth dried and his head felt cottony. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t talking about what Peter thought he was.

“But why witches—”

“As you know,” Wade interrupted, “the Unseelie Court has never kept it a secret that they have brainwashed sea witches in their possession. Their master needs to be nearby for them to perform any kind of magic. And since I ordered the entire kingdom to be sealed off a day before, he had no way of communicating with me except through magic. That’s all.”

“What was the message about?”

The moment Wade sprang out of his throne, Peter’s attention snapped back to himself and the king. There was no spike in his heartbeat, nothing that would have warned about his action beforehand, but Peter had felt it as if his own body had moved, muscles tensing.

“You forget yourself, Psylocke,” he said quietly, but in the subsequent hush, even Peter could hear the words, and he was somewhere in the middle of the throng of merfolk.

Out of nowhere, he felt the need to swim to Wade’s side, present an unbreakable front for anyone challenging Wade’s authority. He shook himself out of it, confused at the ferocity of the feeling.

“I need to know if that message threatens this kingdom.”

“Do you think I wouldn’t let the council know if that were the case?”

“But it’s Savis we’re talking about. The scum who almost didn’t sign the peace treaty.”

“And I warned him about it. It’s been enough time since then that he’d stand to lose precious territory if that were to go up in flames. He knows we have the power to take him on and win.”

“Then why did he come all the way here to deliver a stupid message? It doesn’t make sense. Why witches? He could have had someone deliver it.” Peter could almost hear her grinding her teeth together.

Wade didn’t answer immediately, but when he did, his whole body relaxed and he clamped a hand down over her muscled back.

“Don’t worry, my butch mermaid, I won’t go have fun without you.” He winked and the whole hall released the breath they’d been holding. Louder, he declared, “and since there is no threat to this kingdom, from this moment on, the full lockdown will be lifted.” He nodded in Eri’s direction who lifted his hands, palms and eyes glowing for a few moments, then came back to himself, nodding back once.

After that, there were no more confrontations and Psylocke seemed somewhat appeased. Peter used the flow of the crowd to get out, looking back only once and meeting Wade’s dark, closed off gaze, before Peter was pushed outside.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

Slowly, over the next few days, things returned to normal. And normal meant that Eri was back to spending time with him, and it also apparently meant that Peter found himself searching for Wade in the crowd wherever he went. Most of the time he could hear the distinct set of heartbeats, but could never find him. Eri pointed out that he was very distracted lately, and every time, without fail, there was a teasing glint in their eyes.

But when Peter opened his bedroom door one day, three weeks after he set tail in that kingdom, Wade was casually leaning against the opposite wall.

Peter looked left and then right, but apart from the guards stationed at each entrance to the hallway, there was no one else on the floor but them.

“Were you expecting Eri to jump out of shadows and scare you?” The words were light, but there was worry in his eyes. “They’re in a meeting,” he tacked on swiftly. “I’m not required to be there because the last time I was there I disrupted the whole thing, so I’ve been banned from trade meetings. And so I thought you might need someone to keep you company. If you want.”

Peter frowned. “I can survive a day without Eri.” But he couldn’t quite mask the warm, fuzzy feeling that pooled in his stomach at the sight of the king.

He looked— good. Healthy. Calm. Gone was the dark, closed off look, the gravity of his crown. He was just Wade, in that moment, a simple merman who seemed to want to spend his free time in Peter’s company.

Ever since the panic attack and Wade’s subsequent absence, Peter had time to sort through his feelings on the matter. He found he was able, after all, to enjoy the king’s company without fearing Wade was going to give him something again. And it helped that the king kept his word and hadn’t been encroaching on Peter’s time.

But that also meant that he found himself paying much more attention to Wade than he had before. Or rather, he had a different focus now. It wasn’t about survival, but about this strange curiosity to find out more about the king.

“Lucky you,” Wade said with a grin.

“Uh…” Apparently enjoying Wade’s company did not mean that he was able to carry on a conversation. The last king he’d been this close to almost bedded him and he’d been the most suave siren (with a hidden agenda) he ever met.

“Eri’s been my right hand even before this place was anything more than a cluster of lava rock formations.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I wouldn’t be able to survive a day without him.”

Peter closed the door behind him, deciding to accept this truce, though it felt more like he was letting himself be guided by curiosity, once again.

“So,” Wade picked up the conversation again, eyes never ceasing to roam over Peter’s face, endlessly searching for something. “What did you plan to do today? We could go see the lava craters and the geysers. Or we could go and see this cave I found that has thermal pools. Freaky gravity there.”

Peter smiled at the excitement in Wade’s voice and Wade seemed to become twice as excited as before.

“Tell you what. Do you want to see something I’m sure Eri never showed you?”

Peter regarded the king. “Depends. Will that be the dungeons?”

Wade laughed. “I’d love to show you the sexy one, but sadly Eri repurposed it as a second armory last year. But I promise you’ll find this interesting.”

He almost took the offered hand and Wade saw that because Peter’s hand apparently didn’t know how to follow orders. Neither commented on it, though Wade had a pleased little smile all the way out of the castle.

The place he took Peter to was a cave off to the side, behind a cluster of algae and corals. What intrigued Peter was the bioluminescent algae growing around the mouth of the cave and inside on the walls and all over the floor.

Further inside, the tunnel curved towards the left and it opened to a round chamber that had a hole in the ceiling from which other sea plants waded lazily along the opening. The light filtering through and mixing with the glow from the bioluminescent algae gave the cave a mystic atmosphere. As if he just stepped into another world, a far away world that didn’t exist anymore. 

But what pulled Peter’s attention was the carvings on the walls. There was a story there that Peter was drinking in avidly. War and love and betrayal, pain and death and sorrow.

“Why did you bring me here?” Peter asked in a hushed tone.

“Because Eri had to tell me why you intercepted the spell before them.” He stopped in his tracks, and Wade winced. “They had to, they didn’t want to, but they had to. Just like Psylocke, at first I thought it was a declaration of war. It wasn’t until they deciphered the foreign magic and told me about you and who you are that I relented.”

Peter was reeling from having someone else telling the king a story which was, by right, his to tell. He was trying not to be suffocated by the thoughts and the panic that was washing over him, and he realized that he should be asking Wade about the message.

“So you’re pitying me?”

“No. I understand you.”

Peter shook his head.

“I do. You and I are not that different.”

“They were killed,” Peter whispered, anger finding its way to the surface. “First my parents. Killed by brainwashed sea witches. Then my uncle Ben, and last was my aunt May. Assassins. 

“What do you think I’ve done since I was sixteen? I tracked down everyone I could that had a hand in their deaths. Only brainwashed witches that didn’t deserve to die, even if all I wanted was to kill them like they killed my parents. But it’s their master that I need to find. They’re just the pawns. 

“The assassins I could never find. I’ve been hunted most of my life, every day living in fear and unable to form lasting connections to others for fear of them becoming targets.”

He couldn’t read Wade’s face in that moment, his heart didn’t betray his thoughts either and Peter felt like he had freely carved a piece of himself and given it to someone who might still betray him later on. He would never be able to take this piece back.

“Do you know how I got this smokin’ hot?” Wade said, fingers trailing over a particular carving in the middle of the oval wall, almost lovingly. “They experimented on me for years, trying to make me their best weapon until they succeeded. Years of agony and pain and constantly being on the brink of death. Mermen are the most resilient of the merfolk. I lost myself for a few decades after that.” 

He fell quiet for a moment, lost in thought.

“I don’t even remember,” Wade continued, “what they made me do, but I’m sure I’m responsible for a lot of bloodshed, both above and below the ocean. Then I met Nessa and I don’t know how she managed, but she brought me back— in pieces, but I came back to my senses. What do you think that meant for her? They killed her for getting close to me and tried to recondition me for even being near a human without having my claws deep in their bowels. I killed all of them. Every single one who had a hand in what was done to Vanessa.”

Peter took in a shaky inhale.

“Most merfolk go through a tragedy or other, some more gruesome than others. I learned that if I let it spill into my present, into my decisions, then I’m no better than the humans or the mernivorous creatures that live deep, deep below my kingdom.”

Peter blinked, his thoughts screeching to a halt. “I don’t think I heard that last part right. Did you— you mean you have their bones buried—”

“They’re very much alive. Give or take the ones that auto-cannibalize themselves too much.”

“They’re not extinct?”

Wade shook his head gravely. “They’re very much alive and famished. That’s how I established myself and my kingdom. It was what finally brought peace to this ocean.”

“But… how…”

“The only reason we’re not at war is because each tribe head suspects I didn’t kill them. They’re afraid I’ll use them to win any war. That and me being pretty much immortal.”

“And will you?”

“What? Let my exotic piranha out into the big, scary world? No, they’re still grounded for drinking and staying out past their bedtime a millenia ago.”

Then realization washed over Peter. “You’re really the monster in the fairytales.”

The grin Wade showed was razor-sharp and unrepentant. “Yup, that’s me, baby boy. So better be careful, otherwise this monster’s gonna snatch you from your bed if you don’t tuck your feet— I mean, tail in.”

“But it can’t be— you’re— that can’t be true! You’re not a monster!”

Wade laughed loud and entirely without humour. “Oh, yes I am. I’m all of that and more. I’m the cold-blooded killer that wiped the Alaska settlement out of existence. Yes, mermaids, mermans, even babies. That kind of blood does not wash off.”

Peter shook his head, leaning on the carved wall, fingers tracing over tails and faces. “No. If it’s 860 years ago, then you were fresh out of the experimentation. You weren’t yourself.”

“Do you think that matters? When these hands—  _ these hands  _ took innocent lives?”

“Yes, it matters!” Peter pushed himself off the wall, wading closer to the king. “You weren’t yourself. You were their weapon.”

Wade shook his head. “The fairytales are right. I am the monster.”

“You aren’t. How can you be a monster and have so many merfolk respect and love you?”

“They don’t love me. They only respect me out of fear of retribution.”

Peter’s eyebrows climbed into his hair. “Do you hear the nonsense you’re saying? How can anyone fear you and still joke with you, eat in the same room as you? If I feared someone as much as you think everyone else fears you, I would definitely use every excuse not to spend time with this person more than necessary. But these people, they challenge you and joke with you because they care about you, because they know you’d protect them.”

“Yeah, it’s called character development,” Wade said gruffly, crossing his arms, muscles bludgeoning. “I made sure there won’t be a repeat of Alaska.”

“What does that mean?”

“This belt is not really meant to protect me from being attacked, but to protect the others from me. The moment I lose myself and go off, Eri’s within their power to off me.”

“But you’re immortal.”

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s a spell that offs even immortals. We made sure of that.”

“What—” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“The only other immortals that live in the ocean to my knowledge are the mernivores. They’re virtually indestructible.”

“How did you imprison them?”

“Magic again.” He grinned viciously. “And some of my immortal blood.”

“And they’re still alive even after all this time? What do they even—”

“Eat? Let’s see, most of them auto cannibalize themselves, but sometimes they receive presents.”

“By presents you mean—” 

Wade guffawed. “If you’re asking if I feed them my subjects, then the answer is no. Criminals get sent to my kingdom for a reason. What they don’t realize is that each criminal passes through a vetting process under Psylocke’s supervision. If they are unable to be reformed or unwilling to learn from their mistakes, then down they go. I’ve no patience for scumbags.”

He must be looking pretty green around his gills.

A humourless grin revealed Wade’s pointy teeth. “The chain of life, Pete-pie.”

“More like the law of the jungle.”

“See, that’s a funny word right there. Care to shed some light on why you know so many surface words?”

“Didn’t Eri tell you?” 

“Only that you were a sea witch before your mommy and daddy, and eleven other strangers, took it away from you.”

Instinctively, Peter waded back, which only prompted Wade to follow him. So Eri didn’t really tell Wade everything. Relief washed over him, followed by guilt that he believed he was ratted out so easily. Maybe he needed to revisit his view on friendship. Definitely his view of Eri.

“I told you. I travelled a lot.” 

He wasn’t sure why he still clung to that cover story. By now he was almost positive that Wade wouldn’t shun him. There was still some doubt there because he’d been keeping away from the king, so he wasn’t sure if that made him less inclined to be lenient with Peter.

“Uh-huh. And someone who’s never been to the surface might even believe you. But I’ve been there, I lived there for a few decades. Occasionally, I even go for a visit. You have the air of someone who’s hiding more than can fit under those lean muscles.”

“Wait, you— you can transform?”

“Sure can. As soon as my tail touches dry ground. Half merman, half human. Nifty, right? I get to experience the best and worst of two worlds. Two for the price of two. A shitty deal I made once when I got drunk off my ass.”

Peter studied Wade’s feature, looking for a lie or anything that would take away from his words, but he found nothing.

“Fine, you win.”

“The sweetest words.”

“I’m a Half, too.”

“Called it!” He crowed in victory and even twirled once in a little victory dance. “Eri owes me a resuscitation!” Then he calmed down, seizing Peter up. “Half human, half male siren. The rarest combination in creation.” 

“Will that be a problem?” Peter narrowed down, prepared to make a run for it. 

Wade was close enough that Peter could feel the warmth coming off his skin. No spike in his heartbeat. Peter couldn’t predict if he was going to strike or do anything else.

“I saved and gave sanctuary to a sea witch, and many others fleeing unjust persecution. What makes you think that you’d be a problem?”

“The price—” He clamped his mouth shut so fast he bit into his lower lip. He pressed them together, trying to keep the blood in, but a few ropes floated up.

Wade’s gills stayed open for longer, as if breathing in deeply, no doubt sensing the blood in the water, and he leaned in.

“Careful with that, you might draw out predators.” He grinned, and waded back, giving Peter enough space to collect himself. 

He didn’t leave the cave, so Peter had to speed his recovery, suddenly unsure of what Wade’s intentions were. He didn’t seem to want to imprison him or ransom him or kill him. Bedding him still didn’t seem to be on the table. The king didn’t make sense to Peter. Why else would he want to be around Peter if not to keep an eye on him because he was some kind of prize?

He was sure there was something else there that made the king pay this much attention to Peter, but for the life of him he couldn’t understand what.

“And don’t worry about the price on your head.” Wade smiled darkly. “I won’t let anyone have you.”

Ah, so it was that, after all.

“Except you.”

A calculated gaze flickered over Wade’s as he measured Peter. “If you want to.”

“If I want to,” he repeated flatly, not buying it.

“I won’t let anyone harm you, I promise. You’re safe here, Petey-licious.”

He was getting whiplash, but then something clicked in his mind, and he advanced on Wade until there was barely a breath between them. “The message. What was in the message?”

Wade’s eyes went a bit unfocused, head cocked to one side, as if listening to something. “Your heartbeat is the best sound I ever heard since Vanessa,” he said dazedly, before snapping out of it and boring holes into Peter’s. “I’ll protect you, I promise. You can stop running now, Peter. You’re safe.”

He wasn’t making sense!

“What was the message about, Wade?” But Wade was swimming out of the cave, and Peter was hot on his tail. He would never be able to outrun Peter.

But the moment he swam past the algae and coral clusters, Wade was nowhere in sight. He growled, fists clenched at his sides. His head was full of questions that didn’t even connect with one another. Just question upon question about the message, Wade’s promises, his past, whatever he meant when he promised Peter was safe. 

He was swimming towards the castle feeling like a dark cloud ready to unleash upon unsuspecting strangers when the blow came and the world went dark.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

He swam back to consciousness to grunts and growls before he fell back into the inky black that beckoned.

***

The second or third time he came close to opening his eyes, there was an argument in full swing and he couldn’t place the voices, even though he recognized them. They were fighting over someone needing to be checked and someone else needing to move and let the doctor do her job and then there were threats of maiming if someone else didn’t move and this voice he was sure he didn’t recognize.

Then the voices fell apart and there was blessed silence once again.

***

When he finally opened his eyes, the whole castle was in a frenzy.

Okay, he didn’t get that right off the bat, but Eri came in a few minutes later, hair deep red and fluctuating around their head angrily. Their eyes might be more violet than usual, too. It didn’t bode well. Something must have happened. Eri’s tail usually waded lazily, almost in a sensual way. But this was too tense and tight.

They carried a tray of herring and something green that was in a glass with a lid and a straw that looked like twisted algae. The many things one could make out of that weed continued to impress Peter.

“How are you feeling?” they asked when Peter finished his meal. He didn’t eat much, for fear of throwing all of it up.

“Like a whale sat on my head for days on end. What happened?”

“Nothing much,” they said too flippantly, as they rearranged the plates and piled the fish tails on one plate. “You got kidnapped from right under Wade’s nose. He went ballistic and tracked the fucker down within half a day. Psylocke and I almost lost him a couple of times. Apparently, an unconscious siren, even one as scrawny as you, still weighs a lot. I had to restrain Wade with magic so he wouldn’t kill the fucker before we found out who sent her. After that, I didn’t care much about what happened to her because you were still bleeding from the hit. That’s how Wade tracked you.”

“How long was I out?”

“About two days.”

Peter frowned, blinking owlishly, not recognizing the lavish deep blue bed with four posters from which flimsy organza veils fluctuated lazily. “Where am I?”

“Wade’s bedroom. He wouldn’t let you out of his sight or arms. Until doctor Foster came in.” Eri grinned mirthlessly. “Threats swam around, a bit of magic, and she was able to examine you. I swear to someone, he was worse than when I got hurt. Behaved like we were tearing off a limb or trying to kill you just by breathing near you.”

“Where’s he?” 

“Wade’s missing.” Eri dropped that when Peter finished drinking the green concoction that tasted weirdly of fried peanuts, and Eri took the drink off Peter’s hands.

“What?” He tried to sit up, but a bout of dizziness assaulted him, and Eri’s hands guided him back on the gently floating cushion. 

“Easy, you’re still not fully healed. Doctor Foster did what she could with her healing magic, but most of it needs to be done by your body.”

“How— how did he— you have wards.”

“Yeah, but they don’t react to him like they do to anyone else, since his blood fuels them and he knows where the patrols make their rounds.”

“And you really don’t know where he went?”

Eri shook their head. “Wade was the only one close enough to the kidnapper to hear what she choked out. He’d already done a bit of damage to her before I could stop him. Psylocke was searching the area to see if there was anybody else around, waiting for this fucker.”

“But he has—” 

Psylocke barged in at that moment, door slamming into the wall, eyes fierce and face displeased. “He went after Savis.”

“Of course he did,” Eri said, nonplussed, as if they were waiting for that.

Then it trickled back into his mind. He grabbed Eri’s wrist. “What was in that message?”

“He’s gonna get a piece of my mind when he gets back,” Psylocke grumbled as Eri threw Peter a calculated look. “He promised he wouldn’t sneak out to have fun without me!”

“The king of Trimeria demanded Wade give you to him. Wade refused.”

Peter released their wrist, the oxygen in the water not enough to fill his gills. “And then I got kidnapped.” Eri nodded. “Will this mean war?” he asked faintly, his heart jack-rabbiting in his chest, which was making him dizzier.

Eri and Psylock narrowed their eyes at him, no doubt picking up on the spike of fear.

“I don’t think so,” Eri said slowly. “No one dares pick a fight with the King of the Trenches, though Savis went and did it with this stunt. No one will back him up, though, because most of the Atlantic Ocean either fears Wade or has a healthy respect for the power he wields. But I must say, it’s been centuries since he lashed out like this.”

“Centuries?” Peter asked, closing his eyes.

“Six centuries ago, he killed the Four Councilfolk of Terrerah, which was the name of the Atlantic Ocean at the time.”

“Oh. Because of Vanessa?”

There was silence, then Eri said, “you know,” and Peter nodded slowly. “Ironically, those four geezers were the ones pushing for Wade to take control of the ocean with them as his advisors.”

Psylocke snorted. “Yeah, sure. As if Wade would ever be at anyone’s beck and call after Alaska.”

Eri grinned. “I don’t think there is a force in all the oceans and lands on this planet capable of having that kind of control over him.” Then he glanced at Peter, eyes narrowing.

“Whassit?” He slurred, the dizzy spell making him feel like he was hungover.

“We might revisit that statement at a later point, considering the situation we’re in.” 

“Are you saying,” Psylocke butted in, “that he didn’t even confide in me, his War General—” 

“Advisor.”

“— and shenanigans buddy, because of this pipsqueak?”

“Excuse me?” Peter said indignantly, the dizziness receding a bit to allow him to open one baleful eye.

“Actually, yes, that is exactly what I’m saying.” Peter did  _ not  _ like the implication of that or the amusement in Eri’s eyes.

Psylocke waded closer, all posturing and corded muscles.

“But it can’t be true,” Peter found himself saying because this situation was ridiculous. Why was he threatened by a mermaid whose only bone to pick with Peter was the fact that her king went off to, uh, punch Savis to high heavens without her? 

“Why not?” Eri said, doing zilch to stop Psylocke from looming over him. He tried to wade towards the other side of the bed, but he lacked strength even for that.

“I’m not responsible for this.”

“Can you prove it?” Eri challenged.

“Can  _ you  _ prove it has anything to do with me?”

“As a matter of fact, I can.”

Peter’s head leaned to the side of Psylocke’s built body, so he could give Eri his most befuddled look. “How?”

The grin was ferocious and damn, that sly edge to it made Eri beautiful in the way predators were— in the way Wade was when he was amused at Peter’s expense.

“He’s been courting you since pretty much day two. This is just the climax of that courting. A last offering, let’s say.”

“What?” Both Peter and Psylocke said in unison. 

“That’s not true,” Peter said, pulling his emotion under tight lock and ignoring his dizzy spell. “You’re just saying that to— make me react. He could have a bone to pick with this king—”

“No, he doesn’t,” Eri interrupted. 

“Apart from him being opposed to Savis’ slavery and brainwashed witches hobby,” Psylocke added.

Peter opened his mouth and then closed it shut with a click. He almost bit his lip. Eri’s grin stretched, because the bastard was watching Peter like a hawk.

“Yes, Peter, have anything to share with your new friends?”

“What friends look like they’re about to maim me for something I had no hand in?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Psylocke won’t hurt you.”

“Debatable,” she said, narrowed gaze on Peter.

“Suit yourself.” Eri fluttered a dismissive hand. “It’s his chosen mate you’re threatening. If one scale is out of place on his precious tail, we’ll be short a War Advisor.”

She growled. “He’s clearly holding back information.”

“Well, if you’d let him tell us, maybe we’ll get to the bottom of this tiring situation. Goddess knows, we might need to prepare for a war after this stint.”

“Spill the seaweed, pipsqueak,” she barked.

“I’m not anyone’s mate, just so you know,” he slurred once again, closing his eyes even as the frown stayed in place. 

“I’m sure Wade will disagree,” Eri said gleefully.

“Tell us,” Psylocke butted in.

“Okay, okay, fine. Don’t get your scales in a twist.” Psylocke and Eri simply stared back. “Of course it went over your heads. Anyway, about Savis… I might be the reason why he’s out of a hobby.”

“Come again?” Eri waded closer. 

Peter sighed. “A year ago I freed the merfolk that he’s been keeping as slaves after the end of the Three Hundred Years War. There was a brainwashed witch among them, probably to keep an eye on the merfolk and silence any revolt, who sounded the alarm and the one that stung me with magic. He’s been hunting me ever since.”

Psylocke gave him a cold once-over. “You. Scrawny you managed to infiltrate Savis’ stronghold, find the slaves and free them?”

“Well,” Peter pursed his lips, “he has a thing for rare objects and pretty faces. Lucky for me,” he said through a grimace, “I fit both categories.”

“Did you—?” Eri asked and Peter knew exactly what he wanted to know.

“Almost.” Sleep was calling him once more. “Enough... get his guard down… knock him out. He distrusss guards... found keys… easy peasy...”

“Well, I’m glad you’re still in one piece. And don’t tell Wade about this. I already owe him a resuscitation spell, and I don’t want to become old before my time. Goddess knows...”

The rest fell into oblivion as Peter followed.


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

The gentle swaying of the ship he was on made him frown because they were in the middle of a storm and it was when he looked over to the side to see a tornado closing in on them that the image cut off suddenly.

He didn’t open his eyes at first, his mind still caught in the after-images of the dream, but when he realized that the gentle swaying had not been a product of his mind, but of what was happening beyond it, he opened them at last.

Wade was there. And he was swimming in circles, brow scrunched up and so focused on something on the floor that he probably didn’t notice the whirlpool he was creating.

“Wade,” Peter croaked, just as he floated into the wall, his forearm acting as a buffer.

“Peter!” Wade swam closer, eye frantically checking him for— what? Injuries? He felt better, actually.

“What happened?”

“I—” For the first time, the king was at a loss for words. “I was worried you weren’t waking up. Eri and doctor Foster told me that you were all right and just needed rest, but baby boy, you didn’t even stir when I came in. What if someone else tried to attack you? You’d be none the wiser!”

In the meantime, Peter had pushed himself in a vertical position, Wade’s hand on his elbow steadying him even though he didn’t need it. His heartbeat was strong and Peter found himself wading closer. How could he have missed him this much? But first, he needed to clear some things up.

“Why did you go?”

“What do you mean?”

“There was no reason for you to go to Trimeria and do— whatever you did.” Peter checked him over, belatedly realizing that there would be no sign of wounds, if he was immortal. “Not for me.”

“More so because it was you,” Wade said quietly, an intensity in his eyes that froze Peter on the spot.

“What are you— saying exactly?” Being bedmates for so long with suspicion, it was all too easy for Peter to draw certain conclusions from the way Wade looked at him and the way he spoke.

Wade seemed troubled by something, and a bit annoyed. “I’m saying I couldn’t have let that pass. I was supposed to keep you safe. I promised you that. You _were_ safe here. I was doing so good. By you. You were finally relaxing and _staying._ I knew you would have left at some point, but— I didn’t want you to. Not if you liked it here. I— didn’t think he would dare pull something like that, but he’s always been a selfish piece of carcass whose greed knew no limits. Fear not, baby boy, now you’re truly safe.”

That didn’t sound as reassuring as Wade wanted it to be. “What did you do, Wade?”

A fulsome, razor-sharp grin bloomed on his face. “I dealt with the pesky problem.”

“Wade…”

“And I brought you a present! Aski helped me wrap it.” He giggled like a schoolboy at that. “He actually wanted to add some stuff to it, but I told him you’ll probably like it if it was simple and to the point.”

Before Peter could stop him, Wade swam to the other corner of the room where a metal top was keeping the contents of a plate secured. He brought it to Peter and motioned for him to open it.

The moment he did, his whole body tensed, mind going blank in an instant. There, on the silver platter, Savis’ head floated up a bit, eyes open and unseeing, skin ashen, dreadful neon green hair now a bunch of silken dark green locks that could pass for algae. 

And the first thought Peter had was not to scream and run for the surface or cheer and praise Wade. No. The first thought that unfroze Peter was that he was going to stay off algae for a while after this.

“You… don’t like it?” Wade asked, worry worming its way into his voice.

“I—”

Did he? He looked at the severed head and realized that he was in no way, shape, or form horrified by the sight. Or by Wade. If nothing else, Peter’s heart was picking up speed, the whirlpool of emotions getting stronger and closer to molten lava pooling in his stomach.

“Did you,” he began, voice oddly shaky and croaky, “did you kill him because he tried to kidnap me?”

Wade scowled, his face darkening. “And because he’s been hunting you. Eri told me. I almost asked them to revive the piece of shit so I could chop him back to death. But I needed to make sure you were all right, first. See it with my own eyes.” Here his voice broke, oddly. “You were losing so much blood and that asshole was carrying you in a net as if you were nothing more than a kill, a trophy for her wall. I—I couldn’t— I don’t want to see you like that ever again. Do you understand me, Peter? I can’t— I can’t go through that again. I felt like I was going crazy, like I already lost you. I couldn’t— I couldn’t hear— you were _silent._ So fucking silent!”

Peter had to grab his elbows and stop him before he spiraled into a panic attack. His heartbeat was erratic for the first time since Peter met him. And it was all because of Peter.

“Breathe, Wade. Breathe. I’m here. I’m alive and well. You saw to that. You brought me back.”

Wade was looking at him with desperation, frantically searching his eyes, trying at the same time to calm himself. “I did, didn’t I?” he said brokenly, leaning towards Peter until their foreheads touched.

They stood like that, breathing and feeling each other’s body temperature. Peter was listening to Wade’s heartbeat and he was sure Wade was doing the same.

“Wade,” he said after a while, opening his eyes a bit. “You must… do you know what this means?”

“I freed you of his grubby, lecherous hands?”

“You made me a blood offering,” he whispered, feeling faint.

He hadn’t fully understood what Eri had meant back then. What it truly meant to receive a blood offering. He couldn’t have predicted that it’d make him feel so— so _ravenous_ in a new way and entirely unrelated to his stomach. It felt like something clicked, something that had been trying to for a while now, but couldn’t.

Wade pulled back and cocked his head. “Yes.”

“You made me a blood offering,” he repeated, as if by doing that Wade would finally understand.

“Yes, I did. Is it not enough? I could make you another, just point me in the direction of anyone else who’s ever harmed or wants to harm you.”

“No! No, I… nobody has ever made me such an offering,” Peter said, more to the head on the platter than to Wade.

“Oh, baby boy,” he said, and drew Peter close, palms framing his face. “You deserve the world, and if you want it, I will give it to you.”

Peter’s heart stopped in his chest. “No, you don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” Wade said vehemently.

“You— you can’t. That’s— you—”

“I can and I will, if that means you’ll be safe. I want this, my kingdom, to be a safe haven for you. No more running. Why don’t you settle down here?”

“Here? Settle? That— no, that would be a mistake.”

“Peter, I want you to stay. Here. By my side. No matter what comes, I’ll be here. I’ll protect you. And I’ll make damn sure that no one will get to you like that ever again,” he said fiercely, and, again, his blue eyes lit up as if Wade, too, had an inner power that Peter knew nothing about.

“You’re not—”

“Serious? I am. I told you, the sound of your heartbeat is the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in very long centuries. It’s the first one I latch onto when you’re nearby. It— it makes it all better up here,” he said and tapped his temple with one clawed finger. “I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you. I— I already lost enough in the past. If I can keep you safe by my side, then I’ll do everything I can to ensure that.”

“Even if that means you’d end up imprisoning me?”

At that, Wade gasped and pulled back. “I wouldn’t—”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Peter found himself saying, something his uncle had said a couple of times to Peter himself.

Yet Peter couldn’t help but feel something stir within him, awaken at the sound of Wade’s promises. A dark part of him that Peter had all but forgotten about. The more he stood there, looking at Wade, the more that monster inside grew and wanted Wade for itself— for Peter.

He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Wade. I’m not— I can’t—”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

That cut Peter deep. “How could you think that?”

“Then why are you finding excuses? I’m offering myself to you, all of me, flaws and tragic past, and you—”

“You’re not— you don’t know what you’re offering. _Who_ you’re offering yourself to.” Peter shook his head and pulled himself away, but Wade wasn’t letting him.

“I know what I’m doing. If it means that I keep you here, by my side, then I will clean the ocean of all those who ever harmed you or wish you harm.”

“You don’t understand!” Peter raised his voice, ripping himself away from Wade before he did something they both might regret. “You just told me that you want to be my—”

He couldn’t even say it.

“Your mate, yes. You’re already mine. Now I can see it as clearly as my ugly mug in a mirror.”

Peter whirled around to stare at this impossible merman. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“What makes you think that?”

The monster within snarled as Peter tried to push it back. It wouldn’t go. He wanted what Wade was offering, _oh how much_ he wanted, but he couldn’t. Wade didn’t know what he was bargaining for.

“There are a number of reasons why this is a bad idea.”

“I’ve lived long enough to know a bad idea from a good one. Most of the time I go for the bad one. But this — what’s between us — is so far from being bad, I don’t know how I couldn’t see it sooner.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Eri told me to stay away from you right after we left you in the throne room. That we didn’t know who you were and what you were running from. I couldn’t explain it then to Eri or to myself, but I couldn’t stay away. Not when you tried so hard to keep your secrets close. Secrets that were bigger than yourself, and weighed more than you could carry. I told myself that you’re better off without me or my baggage. But do you know what I realized later?”

Peter stared hard at Wade, jaw clenched.

“That we both have secrets and tragic pasts enough to fill a library, but I wanted a future with you more than I was afraid of you knowing all the bloody details of my past.”

He was trying furiously to find a reason, at least one, to shoot down Wade’s, but he couldn’t find any. Saying that Peter was dangerous and that he would get Wade killed was a moot point. He demonstrated that even if another king was after Peter, Wade wouldn’t have any problem taking him out for him.

That, _that_ right there was why he couldn’t push or ignore the monster within, the selfishness rising up and threatening to drown him. Instinctively, he recognized Wade as the strongest mate Peter could ever meet. It wasn’t just because he was immortal, but that he dealt with a problem in such a swift and no-BS manner, that he felt like _purring_ in delight and appreciation.

“But killing the king means war,” Peter found himself saying.

Wade shook his head. “No one under his command challenged me after I took his head off. They know what’ll happen if they do, and most tribes and colonies like the peace that I keep.”

He looked at the head again. The monster in him purred. This was not supposed to happen! But at the same time he knew that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You realize that by making me a blood offering, you’re tying yourself to me for life, right?”

Wade looked impossibly thrilled at the prospect. “Yes, my gorgeous queen!”

“I’m not a queen.”

“No, you’re _the_ Queen of the Trenches,” he said, letting himself float down until his head was on level with Peter’s chest. “I am your humble servant. Yours to do with whatever you want. The kinkier, the better. Tail or not.” He waggled his non-existent eyebrows so obscenely that Peter snorted a laugh even as his sharp teeth itched and his hands framed the king’s face softly.

Wade’s heart skipped a beat and his arms seared hot around Peter’s middle as he spinned them around.

“Oh-Em-Gee! I can’t believe I have you!” He twisted his tail once so he could push himself up, along Peter’s body.

The feeling of Wade’s sturdiness, dragging deliciously along his front made Peter shudder and close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, there was the kind of hunger on Wade’s face that resonated deep within Peter. His teeth _really_ itched now.

“Baby boy,” Wade whispered reverently.

“My king.” Peter tried the title on his tongue.

It only took a moment, but his back collided with the wall, Wade’s bulk pressed completely into him, the tip of his tail twisting and untwisting around Peter’s. Another shudder wrecked his body. 

Wade looked at Peter’s neck with hunger, mouth half-open, gills working overtime.

“No,” Peter said, which snapped Wade’s attention back to him. “First.”

And he pulled the king down for a searing kiss, teeth clashing and scraping lips, tongues fighting for dominance, hands roaming over each other’s bodies, and tails creating delicious friction.

They broke apart, bubbles fizzing around them.

“Do you really want to be my mate?” Peter had to ask. He had to make sure neither was making a mistake. Biological need was not the be-all, end-all.

As answer, Wade simply offered up his neck.

What passed as saliva in a merperson coated Peter’s mouth, the itching becoming unbearable. He lost control of his breathing somewhere between staring at Wade’s blemished neck and his face.

“Are you really sure? There’s— there’s no going back after this. Not for me.”

“Baby boy, please. You’ve no idea how much I want this.”

“I will,” Peter said roughly, his throat clogging up with need. “Once I mark you. Your desires, wants, needs, fears, and excitement will all find a space within me. Just like mine will within you once you mark me.”

Wade’s fingers grazed over Peter’s neck and he shuddered against Wade.

“Do it.”

Peter did. The moment his teeth sunk into Wade’s neck, he realized how much he didn’t know about himself, about his own culture. How much his aunt and uncle skirted around or never really touched upon because they thought they’d never return to the ocean, Peter least of all. 

His eyes went unfocused for a bit, teeth sinking in a bit more. Wade moaned brokenly, arm like a hot band around his back and fingers pulling at his hair, though not to dislodge him.

The bit of claws Peter had scratched Wade’s back, drawing blood. At which point his eyes focused and it was like he was seeing clearly for the first time in his life.

He pulled back when he was sure that his saliva — venom really — took to Wade’s skin. In a normal merman, the chemicals in Peter’s saliva would ensure that the mark wouldn’t fade with time, but also cauterized it. In this case, it wasn’t needed. But as Peter looked down at the mark, still there even though Wade could heal any wound inflicted upon him, he realized that it must also work against Wade’s healing abilities.

Wade touched the fresh mark, shivering, and Peter growled low in his throat in satisfaction.

“Yes, baby boy,” he said hungrily, a growl catching at the end of his words. “I’m yours.”

His entire attention was on Peter’s neck and Peter mirrored Wade’s action from earlier. A curse escaped Wade’s lips before he latched onto Peter’s neck.

Peter cursed too when Wade’s teeth sunk into his skin. It felt like his entire body was being rewritten, cell by cell.

“Mine,” Wade growled into his neck, licking at the wound possessively.

Peter hissed, but didn’t push him away, his own arms locking tight around Wade. This was it. Neither could come back from this— and Peter really, really didn’t want to. A new set of emotions trickled into his mind and he closed his eyes, feeling and hearing how their heartbeats aligned, how the whirlpool of emotions in Wade quieted down. It calmed Peter in ways nothing else ever really did.

“You’re mine,” Wade began whispering, a torrent building up inside him, “you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine!” He pulled back, searching Peter’s face. “I never had this. I never— she was a human. I couldn’t— it wouldn’t have taken. She was different, but I loved her. Oh, how much I loved her. She made me better, made me want to do better, to be the merman I didn’t know how. I loved her so much, Peter, and they took her from me.”

“I know, I know,” Peter whispered, placing a soft kiss on Wade’s lips. “I won’t let anyone take me from you.”

Wade nodded, pressing in for a longer one.

***

And that was that.

Nobody really was shocked to learn about this development. Aski and Ven laughed so hard when they first saw Wade and Peter newly mated that they had to excuse themselves out of the mess hall.

“‘Bout time!” one merman shouted from the back of one table and a chorus of agreement filled the vaulted room.

“Do we finally have a queen?” someone else asked, impatience coloring her smoky voice.

“Yes, the apples of my eyes, you have the worthiest queen I could wish for!” Wade announced proudly, his hot arm never leaving Peter’s back and hips.

The entire hall erupted in cheers, making Peter feel all sorts of things, chief among them being a humbleness that had him sag against his mate’s sturdy body. He hadn’t known how tense he’d been about this new development until he heard the enthusiastic approval of Wade’s subjects. _Their_ subjects.

And then, because surprises never ceased in this kingdom, not for Peter, they pushed the tables off to the sides and gathered in the middle. They didn’t quite form military rows, but it was close to that.

As one, they called, “May the king and queen prosper!” And then, the same smoky voice that belonged to an old mermaid, said, “May the queen be the guiding light of our king and kingdom!”

Another chorus of agreement and Peter felt floored by the endorsement and responsibility they gave him. He looked up at Wade, panicking because he had no idea if he needed to say something, but Wade only beamed proudly and fondly at him and kissed his nose.

Things didn’t change much, apart from the merfolk Peter usually conversed with now congratulating him and offering their help with anything Peter might need. He was still reeling from the warm welcome and acceptance that he kept receiving. Most of them were reformed criminals. But it might be due to him having already proven to them that he could hold his own in many situations. It would take some getting used to this new role he took on when he mated Wade, but he hoped that one day he would be worthy of it.

It somehow ended up feeling more real when Eri wished them the same thing, Wade present, and even bowed formally. And soon after he realized that not only was Wade handsy and pretty much a possessive bastard who was constantly touching or nuzzling Peter any time they were near, but that Peter felt the same intense desire to get his hands all over him. 

After the sixth day of them disappearing in the middle of a meeting, Eri gave up trying to get a hold of Wade or Peter and resolved to do as much as they could without the king and queen’s presence.

***

Peter saw Eri come into the training room out of the corner of his eye. He decided that since he not only made the decision of staying there, but also of sharing the rest of his life with the King of the Trenches, then he would do everything he could to live up to his title. After all, a king was only as strong as his queen. And there were a lot of strong queens in the ocean. Peter had a lot to live up to.

This was three weeks after they mated. The need to jump each other’s tails subsided to a low thrum that they both could ignore— though Wade preferred not to. After many attempts of finishing the conversation before it devolved into stinking hot sex, Peter managed to get Wade to compromise: he could do anything he wanted with or to Peter in the privacy of their bedroom, and Peter in return would only sit with him in the meetings that were the most important and required his input. 

Fortunately, those weren’t many, so the instinctive fondling they both engaged into was kept to a minimum.

“You know,” Eri said casually, “I think the prophecy was right.”

“What?” Peter huffed out, ducking when his instructor, the Captain of the Guards, threw a spear at him, then twisted graciously in a whirl of bubbles when he threw a row of knives no longer than Peter’s palm.

“We all thought it was going to be your mother, but…” He trailed off on purpose which drew Peter’s attention and a knife nicked his forearm. 

“We’re taking five,” the captain said and Peter nodded as he swam to Eri.

They were scrolling down the usual glass tablet that was used for storing documents.

“What’s going on?”

“Ah, there it is,” Eri said, smirking as they offered the tablet to Peter.

He frowned as he scrolled down the paragraphs— and then he saw it. “What… is this?”

The smirk grew into a dark grin. Their hair was white with a few black braids and the red gem embedded into their chest glowed faintly. “Wade’s moving to form an alliance with every tribe in the Atlantic Ocean, and finally unite them all.”

“No, not that. This,” he pointed towards a specific paragraph, heart speeding up (Wade instinctively sent reassurance back through their bond), “this paragraph here. Why is it stating that the purpose of the alliance is to form a big enough army to attack the Pacific Ocean?”

Now there was the peek of teeth in Eri’s grin. “Didn’t he tell you? We’re going after Hydra. The hunter is about to become the hunted. Feels like I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire life.”

Peter’s mind went blank for a few precious moments, then went into overdrive. “So that’s what he was trying to tell me while he was eating m—” he threw an embarrassed look at Eri which only made Eri be more amused, “I thought he meant he was thirsty.”

That made Eri laugh. “Never change, Peter. You’re good for him and he’s good for you.” They stood up and took the tablet from Peter. “The prophecy was so right,” they said as they swam out of the training room.

It took a bit for the situation to sink in.

“Wade,” he called out, warningly, even though he knew he wouldn’t be heard.

He tore down the halls so fast that he scared more than a few merfolk. His mate had some answers to give to him. Wade, feeling his agitation and need to see him, sent back only positive and thrilled emotions. He didn’t know what was waiting for him, and that made Peter feel the anticipation like molten lava pooling in his stomach and lighting up the monster within.

He wasn’t going to let his mate get away with sex. Again.

*** 

_The sea witch will not know until the sea witch sees it with their own eyes, feels it moving within their core. The ocean will answer to their mate’s command. Ocean upon ocean shall clash and all shall be well for those who do not seek power for power’s sake._

_Peace shall reign, finally, and those wishing control of sea witches shall perish._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining us on this journey!
> 
> Don't forget to go shower my artist in love because [ these pieces of art ](https://thatbanananana.tumblr.com/post/642195522944417792/banner-and-art-piece-for-spideypool-bigbang-2020/) are simply gorgeous!


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